From the Journals of the Nerevarine
by LordsFire
Summary: The tale of one of the greatest heroes of Men and Mer, as told by himself before he became known as such. Journal-format Novelization of Morrowind.
1. Seyda Neen and the road

AN: This is written in the style of Journal entries; 'Editor's notes' are intended as part of the story, from the person(s) collecting the journals together for a form of publications. I started writing this because Skyrim poked my desire to write something in TES, and frankly, Morrowind was/is my favorite game, and the Nerevarine needs some decent fanfiction out there starring him.

((()))

16 Last Seed, 427, Third Era.

I don't usually dream, unless it's a nightmare, but even so, I was quite glad of it when Jiub shook me awake.

"Stand up, you were dreaming," The scarred Dunmer says in his gravelly voice, "You were dreaming. What's your name?"

He's a bit addled, but he means well.

"Bill Hawker," I say, still a bit hazy from the dream, "My thanks for waking me."

"No worries," He says, "Not even the storm could wake you, once the dream began. I hear we've arrived in Morrowind, I'm sure the guards will let us go-quiet! Here one comes now..."

Like I said, a little addled. We've been cell-mates, effectively, for the entire journey from the Capital, and he's been friendly, but impossibly optimistic, the whole time. Also not good at remembering names.

"Hopefully," I say softly, as the guard approaches, giving Jiub a thankful nod.

"This is where you get off," The guard, an Imperial, says, "Come with me."

Oddly, he's addressing me, not Jiub. Considering where we are, I would have expected the Dunmer to be dropped off here, not myself. Not so strangely, the guard is armored, but carries no blade; these men were briefed on me. I follow him through the underhold and then the main hold of the ship, all the way to the hatch to the deck, where the guard stops and turns to face me.

"Get yourself up on deck," He says, "And let's keep this as civil as possible."

Friendly way of saying 'please don't go on a murder spree.' I resist the urge to either smirk or scowl at him, and ascend to the deck, where unsurprisingly, there's another guard waiting for me, this one a Redguard like myself, wearing heavy armor, and armed. He's probably the ringer they put on the crew to make sure I didn't kill everyone and take the ship for myself. We eye each other up and down, and it's not hard to see that I'm right.

"This is where they want you," He says, "Head down to the dock and the guard there will show you to the Excise office."

I disembark onto the small dock, and sure enough, another Imperial guard is waiting there for me, this one armed, though clearly nowhere near so competent as the Redguard behind me. I glance over my shoulder, and the ringer is watching me warily, though he does not leave the ship. More honor than most blades for hire; unless I'm greatly mistaken, his contract won't extend to covering me once I'm off the boat, but he's still keeping an eye on me

"You've finally arrived," The Imperial says, drawing my attention again, "But our records don't show from where."

"Imperial Capital," I say harshly, turning back to glare him down, "What's it to you?"

"Have to keep the records straight," He says, raising an eyebrow, "With that attitude, you'll fit right in around here. Follow me up to the office and they'll finish your release."

He turns and walks up the dock; I'm almost too shocked to follow. My _release?_ I'd say that obviously, they're unloading me when they should be unloading Jiub, seeing as this is his homeland, and he probably was incarcerated for hugging some poor little girl who he mistook for his niece and scaring the spit out of her, but there is _no_ mistaking me for that man. And they've been ordered to _release_ me, without even knowing where I've come from, much less who I am. There's something fishy going on here.

"Head on in," The guard says when we reach the door, and I realize he doesn't even intend to follow me in.

When I enter, I find a single guard, and an old man serving as a clerk. One guard, carrying a longsword and tower shield; and one defenseless old man. I give them both a second look-over to make sure I'm seeing things clearly. No, that guard, while definitely competent, isn't skilled enough to be dangerous to me, and the man is no mage.

I will never again in my _life_ fail to recognize the signs of a competent mage. These men clearly have no clue who I am, or else there'd be another half-dozen guards here, and they'd be equipped with clubs or axes, _not_ swords.

"Ah yes," The old man says, approaching me without a hint of fear, "We've been expecting you. You'll have to be recorded before we release you. Would you like to fill out the forms yourself, or will you be needing assistance?"

As tactful a way as any of asking if I can read.

"I'm functionally illiterate," I say flatly, "I can sign and recognize my name, but it'll take me half of a damn hour to read those forms, much less fill them out."

"That's a shame," The old man says amiably, "I am Socucius Ergalla, and you are?"

"William Hawker," I say, and force myself to be a little less hostile, considering how friendly he's being, "Pleased to meet you."

"Very good," He says with a smile, "And what is your profession?"

"Warrior," I say evenly, not exactly surprising for a Redguard out of High Rock.

"And what sign were you born under?" He continues.

I freeze at that question. _That_ is _not_ a normal question. Only a sparse fraction, one in a hundred I'm told, are born under a sufficiently precisely aligned sign to gain a boon from the stars. So they were told _something_ about me, just not much.

"The Atronach," I say warily.

"Interesting," He says with only idle curiosity, "Now before I stamp these papers, let's run through that briefly again to make sure this information is correct."

He goes back over what I've told him quickly, and then stamps the papers, and hands them over to me.

"Show these to the captain on your way out," He says, gesturing to the only exit from the room aside from the one I entered by, "It was nice meeting you."

I head out, moving through a small dining room to leave the building, which exits into a small walled courtyard, that has only one other exit. I almost just pass straight through it, but something nudges at the back of my mind, and I turn to look at the barrel beside the door I was about to pass through. I've got a hunch that I should have a look through it, and my hunches have a tendency to pay off. I'm a lucky man, a _very_ lucky man, so I pay attention to my hunches.

I take a look in the barrel, and within, I find a couple of pieces of crockery, and a small engraved ring that's clearly out of place. I take the ring, but leave the crockery. No need to get into trouble over something so worthless. Hunch taken care of, I head into the building to have a chat with 'The Captain.'

Shit. He's wearing Imperial Templar armor. This man is a Knight, and of some rank too.

"Greetings," He says, regarding me sternly, "I am Sellus Gravius, Knight Errant of the Imperial Legions, and commander of the small garrison here in Seyda Neen. I'll need to have a look at your identification papers."

I fork over the papers.

"Thank you," He said as he perused them, "Word of your arrival only reached me yesterday, but I am here to welcome you to Morrowind."

He spends a little bit looking over the papers before looking me in the eye and speaking again.

"I don't know why you were released from prison and shipped here," He says seriously, "And I don't care. The authorization for your transfer and release came directly from Emperor Uriel Septim the Seventh himself, and I don't need to know any more than that. When you leave this office you're free."

My heart nearly stops beating in my chest. By the order of _the Emperor himself._ _Free_. I don't know how to handle this.

"Before you go," Gravius presses on, "I have instructions on your duties. Instructions from the _Emperor_. So pay careful attention."

I nod sharply, shaking off the mental freeze, and focus tightly on the Knight.

"This package came with the news of your arrival," He continues, handing a bound, lightweight package to me, "Take it to Caius Cosades. Go to the city of Balmora, find the South Wall Cornerclub, and ask for him there, they'll know where to find him. I also have a letter for you, and a disbursal to your name."

I accept the letter and small pouch of gold he hands me, before speaking.

"Where is this 'Balmora,'" I ask.

"North," He says, "You can follow the roads out of town, but I'd recommend you take the Silt Strider, it's faster and safer. Not many bandits this far south, but there are some mildly dangerous wild animals, and while you look like you know your way around a fight, you're going to need better equipment than you can afford yet."

I nod sharply. Not because I agree about my chances in a fight, but because I _do _need equipment.

Even if less than he thinks.

"Thank you," I manage to grind out, though it goes against hard-learned habit to express gratitude,

"I'll be going then."

"Fare well," He says, nodding sharply, "May the Nine Divines watch over you."

I turned and walked out of the Census and Excise offices, a free man.

((()))

Standing in the warm afternoon air of Seyda Neen, my mind and heart roiled with confusion. Released. By the _Emperor himself_.

I didn't know how to handle that; it shattered one of my fundamental beliefs about life; nobility was inherently evil. The degree of evil might vary, but the evilness itself was _not_ up for question. Literally every single experience I had had with the ruling class up to this point made that abundantly clear.

But now the Emperor himself had released me.

_Why?_

My mind unclogging just a little, I retrieved the letter Gravius had given me, and pried it open.

"Excuse me," A Bosmer interrupted, "Have you perchance seen an engraved ring?"

I fished the ring out of the pocket I'd stashed it in without thought, and passed it off to him, my own attention still firmly fixed on the letter in my hands. He babbled something happily before trotting off, but I didn't really notice what he'd said.

The letter from the Emperor was extremely brief, and to the point, not surprising considering my near-inability to read, but it still took me a good few minutes to work out what all it said.

_Continue to stand for Justice,_ it said, _But also learn discretion and temper your anger with restraint._

It bore no signature, just the Imperial Seal. As in _The_ Imperial Seal, of the Emperor himself.

That, did not help. My hands trembled, and I carefully stowed away the letter as my emotional turmoil rapidly devolved into what it usually did these days, anger. Cold, hard, _implacable_ anger.

I needed a sword in my hand, and something to use it on. Turning my focus outward, rather than inward, _again_, I surveyed the sleepy town around me, set my sights on the largest visible building (aside from the guard tower) and made my way towards it. It would either have what I needed, or provide a lookout point for me to find what I needed.

Once I reached the primary entrance I saw that _Arrille's Tradehouse_ was painted over the door; almost certainly what I needed. The layout was blessedly simple; directly inside the entrance was a counter, behind which stood an Altmer that was almost certainly Arille; wares of just about every sort spread about him.

"You Arrille?" I asked, keeping a tight reign on my tone of voice as I looked over the weapons and armor he had in stock.

"Yes," The Altmer said, looking me up and down appraisingly, "That would be me. You wouldn't happen to be the Redguard that found Fargoth's Ring, would you?"

Ring? Oh.

"Excitable little Bosmer?" I asked.

Arrille nodded.

"Yeah, that was me," I said, "How much for the Iron Cuirass, Longsword, and Shield?"

"For a friend of Fargoth," Arrille said, "One hundred and ten Septims."

"And just the sword and shield?" I asked.

"Sixty," Arrille said, a hint of surprise in his voice, but I didn't really care.

"I'll take them," I said, counting the gold pieces out from my small money pouch and dropping them on his counter, "Any bandit infestations that need rooting out?"

"Er," Arrille said, "There's a group of smugglers that hole up somewhere north of town, there's a small Imperial Bounty out for them, but..."

"Thank you," I said, hefting the sword and shield, then turned and walked back out.

I needed to go blow off some steam.

((()))

The cave was damn close to town, just on the other side of a small swamp that only took me a few minutes to slog through; the entrance wasn't really even hidden. Either the Imperial Garrison at Seyda Neen was crucially understaffed, or the commander was incompetent, leaving something like this to sit by. Considering the Knight I'd met, my money was on understaffed, not incompetent.

I tried to make my entrance to the cave stealthy, but I've generally focused more on hurting my foes than hiding from them, and the Dunmer in the first chamber of the cave spotted me entering. He rushed me, moving up the rough-hewn ramp that circled the vaguely spherical cave's edge, and I charged down to meet him. He had a dagger. A _chitin_ dagger. I had a steel sword, shield, and more than adequate sword skills, though my time in prison had dulled them slightly.

I slammed into him, shield first, the steel bulwark easily turning aside his dagger, then hacked him open from shoulder to groin while he was off balance, before reversing the blow to finish him with a jab through the face, into the brain pan.

He had attacked me, without bothering to see who I was, or even warning me off, but I still saw no reason to make his death any more painful than it had to be. The noise of our fight attracted the hideout's other inhabitants, and I rushed for the gate separating the rest of the hideout, intending to meet them there. My plan half-worked; one of them came crashing through the gate just before I reached it, slamming the gate into me, and stunning us both.

I'm a big man, and though I took the worst of the impact, I put more force into the gate than he did, slamming it shut again, and buying me a moment to shake off the shock of impact. Just in time to raise my shield against the spell someone on the other side used to blast the gate open; mostly protecting myself, though a few splinters raked my legs.

Roaring as the adrenaline _truly_ hit my veins, in a way that only other Redguards can ever understand, I forced my way through the explosive blast, slamming someone I could not see aside with my shield. Once I was through the doorway itself, I lowered my shield enough to catch sight of the mage, who was directly in front of the doorway, just as I had expected. He was already in the middle of another spell; I cut it off with my sword to his throat; then spun to my left, raising my shield to block as I did so.

The Dunmer I had forced my way past to reach the mage was more skilled than his dead ally that had been guarding the door, and managed to score a slash along my ribs with his shortsword before I finished my turn, and immediately pressed his offensive as I completed my turn to face him. He moved to his left to force me to meet his attack with my own blade, attempting to mitigate the advantage my shield lent me. It was a clever move, but against me, it made no difference.

I blocked his first blow, parried his second, and riposted against his third, taking his sword arm off at the elbow; he threw his head back and screamed, clutching at the wound. I took the opportunity to separate his head from his neck. As his body fell to the floor, I twisted in place, raking my eyes around the cave, searching for other foes. I saw no one, however, and heard only the dying gurgles of the mage whose throat I had slit.

I finished him off, then moved on to search the rest of the cave. It didn't take long to find out that the stiffs had been Skooma smugglers, moving a little Moon Dust on the side; the stuff's harmless enough for Khajiit, but it's hard shit for Men and Mer (I had no idea how it affected Argonians). Unfortunately, that meant that most of their booty wasn't something I was willing to carry; it's illegal everywhere outside of Elswyr, I'm not selling that shit to non-Khajiit, and trying to sell it to Khajiit wasn't worth the trouble of getting caught by the law. They did have a couple of random scrolls and bits and pieces of gold laying around though, the scrolls weren't anything particularly special, but they should fetch enough gold to get me to Balmora. There were some basic provisions floating around as well, so I looted some Saltrice and Kwama Eggs to serve as travel rations.

A more detailed exploration revealed that the place was a damn labyrinth, with half and completely-submerged tunnels running deep underground. One led to a Rat's nest, and no, not the kind that most city-folk deal with, these are the _big_ rats, that are the size of your whole damn torso, and will eat grown men if you're sloppy. I wasn't sloppy, and I chopped up the only one in the nest right smart, before kicking it off into the underground stream I'd been wading through when I found it. The damn thing's nest was filled with bones, some of them human, and all picked clean, as well as some shredded leather armor. Picking through the armor revealed that pretty much everything except the 'pauldrons' (I refuse to recognize anything made out of leather as a _pauldron_) had been destroyed, as well as some pieces of gold the dead had little use for.

I also found a dead fisherman's skeleton underwater off in the ass end of nowhere in that labyrinth. I have no idea what he was doing down there with a basket and a fishing pole, but a chest nearby had three dozen Septims and a high-quality restorative potion in it, so I counted it as a good find overall. That was also about when I realized that I was probably unhealthily desensitized to seeing dead bodies.

When I explored the (relatively) small upper cavern of the cave, I nearly went into the blood-rage again, in spite of still being somewhat strained from the earlier fight, and seriously considered going back to mutilate the smuggler's corpses.

They weren't just smugglers, they were damn _slavers_.

I HATE slavers.

I went back to loot the bodies (I have no respect for the dead if they're N'Wah _Slavers_), searching them until I found a key for the slave pen and shackles, taking their gold and weapons as I did so. There were only three in the pen (though it had space for a _lot_ more) two Argonians and a Khajiit. I can only remember the Argonian's names because I make a damn _point_ of remembering the names of those I've met unfortunate enough to suffer slavery, Okaw and Banalz. Baadargo though, I'll _always_ remember him, because unlike the two Argonians, he'd never resigned himself to life as a slave.

"Who is this, who kills the slavers and frees Baadargo?" He asked, gleaming gray predator's eyes locked on mine.

"I'm Bill Hawker," I said with a nod fishing around in my improvised pack for the three daggers I'd looted from the dead smugglers, before passing them out to the freed slaves.

"You have Badaargo's thanks," The Khajiit said, nodding to me gravely, "Badaargo will not forget you saving his life, and his friends will not either."

"I wish I could offer you more help," I said with a grim nod of my own, "But my friends are all dead, and I've been sent North on a mission from the Emperor himself. I can't take the time to help you get out of Morrowind, but I can do a little."

I gave them the rest of my gold, and helped them drag the smuggler's rowboat out into the swamp before I headed North towards Balmora.

((()))

_Editor's Note: Though Lord Nerevar was kind enough to provide us his journal from the very beginning, he did note that these earlier portions were transcribed after he became more proficient with the written word, and as such, some details may be slightly inaccurate. He did insist that he _does_ remember every slave he has encountered since he came to Morrowind in 427 3E, even if other details may have faded with memory's lack of freshness._

_When asked, he did mention that he sold the 'loot' he retrieved from Addamasartus at Arille's Tradehouse before he set out for Balmora. He also claimed that the words recorded in the section hereafter reflect his thoughts as best he recalled at the time, stripping out the 'boring' parts. Certain members amongst the priesthood and scribes suspect that he was deliberately withholding his _actual_ thoughts as a matter of principle, given his well-known lack of regard for decorum. The lady Indoril refused to comment when this suspicion was raised in her presence, though she was noted to have smiled._

((()))

17 Last Seed, 427, 3rd Era.

Caius Cosades is probably going to be pissed at me for this, but this woman is going to get herself _killed_ out here if I don't help her. I hope she's got some damn good endurance, because if I'm going to protect her, I'm going to push a hard pace. Glad I didn't pick up any other heavy armor yet.

((()))

Met a second crazy woman on the way to the damn lake. Promised her something, probably stupid, in order to get her _off of the damn roads_ when there are _bandits_ about, _especially_ a comely young woman like her in noblewoman's garb!

((()))

First woman I met was called Nevrasa Dralor; she was a pilgrim headed to some place called Kummu Fields. I met her last night, and she was lost, looking for some place called Lake Amaya, and offered me a hundred and fifty Septims to help her find the place. I agreed, because after I'd already been attacked twice by the wildlife on the road up from Seyda Neen, and considering she was unarmed and unarmored, I was damn sure she'd get herself killed if I didn't. We camped together that night, and I set a hard pace East towards the Lake today; she said it was Northeast of Pelagiad, and I had passed it last night on my way up.

She wasn't very fast, but _damn_ did that woman have endurance; she didn't slow down the entire way, jogging right alongside of me. I'd heard the people of Vvardenfell were hardy, I guess this is my first time seeing it for myself.

Along the way, I found another(!) woman on the side of the road, and I am _not_ making this up, she was too busy sighing over the bandit who had just _robbed_ her to get to somewhere safe! What the hell was a noblewoman doing on the road without escort in the first place? Are _all_ women here in Vvardenfell nuts?

She wanted me to find the damn bandit and _give him her glove_ as a token of affection! I agreed on the condition that she _get off the damn road_ and to someplace _safe_. You know, where she didn't _already know_ there was bandit activity, and the next one decided to _rape_ her rather than _have a friendly chat_ with her.

Anyways, after that, I pressed on to Amaya with Nevrasa, and her endurance kept it from being _too_ much of a chore to get her to the shrine she was looking for, after which I scarpered back towards Balmora. She did pony up the 150 Septims when we got there, why she didn't spend it on a _damn map_ in the first place, I have no idea.

((()))

Ran into a Cliff Racer on the way past Fort Moonmoth; I can see why we've heard of them all the way out in Hammerfell, they're a bloody menace. I was glad I'd picked up a full-sized shield, otherwise the damn thing's hit-and-run attacks would have done me in, messed me up pretty good as it is, scoring a nasty wound to my side. I'm going to press on to Balmora tonight, I don't trust sleeping in the wild with a fresh would leaking the smell of blood to predators.

((()))

Got to Balmora, went to South Wall Corner Club, got room for the night (more day at this point). Bacola, the owner told me where to find Caius, I'll hunt him up tomorrow.

((()))

_Editor's Note: Bacola Closcius was contacted as an external reference, and he confirmed Lord Nerevar's story. Not that the Royal Historians wish to cast aspersions upon his word, but Lord Nerevar himself instituted the policies that require secondary sources being consulted where possible. Readers may wish to keep that in mind when they read the next morning's entry._

((()))


	2. Balmora

((()))

18 Last Seed, 427, 3rd Era.

An Assassin just tried to kill me in my sleep. It was the middle of the damn day, and he _still_ managed to slip past every damn person in the inn to get to my room, and it's only because I'm damn impossible to creep up on that he didn't get me. Surprised the fetcher like nothing else when I rolled over and stuck my blade into him. He was a damn professional though, and still managed to parry the blade with his dagger, and I only took a small bite out of his arm, rather than put it into his chest.

The next thirty seconds was the most furious fight in my life, and considering what put me in prison in the Imperial Capital in the first place, that's _saying something_; he was well-trained, the small room favored his shorter blade slightly, and his armor, while light, was damn fine craftsmanship. In the end though, I was better with my sword than he was with his knife, I was bigger than him, and it's hard to make up for both a reach _and_ a strength advantage, especially when a Redguard goes into the blood-rage.

He still managed to do a real number on me though, I was bleeding from six different places by the time he was dead, the worst the wound from the Cliff-Racer reopening; I decided to screw it and find Cosades. If he couldn't give me a safe place to get some rest, I was in serious danger of a follow-up attack killing me considering how injured I was, and I'd have to make for the wilderness, and find a place to hide while I recuperated.

I looted the Assassin's armor and blade before I left, I'd have worried about my cloak wrapped in an awkward bundle drawing unwanted attention, but the six soaked bandages across my body would already accomplish that.

((()))

"I'm just an old man with a skooma problem," Caius said, and I stared at him in stark disbelief.

I'd caught him sleeping apparently, and he'd not bothered to put his shirt on; the man was _built_. He had as much muscle showing as _I_ did when I was bare-chested, and judging by his grayed hair, he could easily be twice my age. His body language _was_ pretty slack, and I didn't see any swordsman's calluses on his hands, nor those I'd seen on Nords who favored axes, but my instincts still said to be wary of him.

"Whatever old man," I growled, wiping a trail of blood out of my right eye with my free hand before fishing the package I had for him out of my (very oddly shaped now) improvised pack, and throwing it at him, "I was ordered to give you this, direct Imperial Command."

He half-fumbled the catch, looking at me in mild confusion for a moment, before turning it over to study the seal on it. It took him about half a minute to read through the contents (or at least enough that he wanted to speak to me again), and when he looked at me, it was like everything about the man except his actual appearance had changed. Cosades suddenly _loomed_ over the entire room, exuding power and _threat_ like a Nordic Sabercat.

"So," he said, his voice doing a damn fine job of sounding like it was booming without raising one bit in volume, "It says here that the Emperor wants me to make you a member in our service, and that means you'll be following my orders. Are you ready to follow my orders, William Hawker?"

"That depends," I said pointedly wiping more blood off of my face, flicking my hand downward to splatter blood on his floor, "Can you identify _this?_"

I unrolled the cloak I'd been using as an improvised pack, and spilled the assassin's armor onto the floor of his one-room house.

"Yes," Caius said grimly, kicking the helmet from the set up into his hands, "It looks like your arrival was not as discrete as the Emperor would have liked. Someone else has clued into what the Emperor wants you to accomplish here. This is the armor of a Dark Brotherhood Assassin, and the fact that one is _here_ in Morag Tong territory, is damn worrying."

"I thought it might be that," I growled, "But all I know about the Brotherhood are the stories. You talk like you _know_ what you're talking about, old man, so what the hell is going on?"

"I am Caius Cosades," He said, looking me straight in the eye as he re-introduced himself, "Imperial Spymaster and ranking member of the Blades here in Morrowind. We're the Emperor's eyes and ears in the provinces, we watch the Emperor's enemies, we look for opportunities, we make reports, and when the Emperor commands, we _obey_."

He paused for a moment, leaning forward, his gaze intensifying into a glare as he drove the last word home.

"The Emperor has commanded that I induct you into the Blades, and I intend to _obey_, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it," I said, nodding grimly, "You don't look like an idiot, and I owe the Emperor. If you've been told anything about me though, it's that I don't put up with shitheads looking to abuse their authority over the common folk. You get that, and I'll have no problem following your orders."

"Good," Cosades said, nodding sharply, "Then welcome to the Blades, Novice. Now sit your ass down while I dig out my healing potions."

((()))

The Old Man brought in an Altmer healer called Tyermaillin when he saw the extent of my injuries, and while the elf worked, he caught me up to speed on some of what was happening in Morrowind, and Vvardenfell in particular. In Morrowind at large, the King had died recently, and a new King, Helseth Hlaalu, son of the legendary Barenziah, had taken the throne; the province as a whole hadn't taken the shift in power well, and some were suspicious of the conditions of Llethan's death. On Vvardenfell, Blight diseases had been spreading like wildfire recently, and a particularly pernicious one called Corprus, which mutated both flesh and mind, had begun to appear.

On top of that, smuggling was up on Vvardenfell, someone was beginning to point the Fighter's Guild at the Thieves Guild, the obvious suspects being a local crime syndicate called the Cammona Tong, skirmishes between the three Dunmer Great Houses on the island were up, Red Mountain was more active, sending Ash Storms throughout the land, and the members of the Tribunal had been less and less active over the last few decades. And then there was the Assassin who'd attacked me; Cosades said he had an 'understanding' with Closcius, and the body would be taken care of without any awkward questions being asked. Not like anybody wants anything to do with the Dark Brotherhood anyways.

I told him that I knew jack shit about the Tribunal, he gave me a book to read for the basics, I told him I was illiterate, and he said I'd be going up to the Mages Guild in Ald'ruhn and learning to read at the school they were running there first thing in the morning.

Considering how my last 'adventure' went, I was not inclined to disagree...

((()))

19 Last Seed, 427, 3rd Era.

Before I left the next morning, Cosades gave me a rundown of some of the other Blades operatives in Vvardenfell (something he informed me he would _not_ be doing if my joining hadn't been mandated by Imperial command), then told me to take the assassin's armor to Caldera, and sell it to the short merchant on the second floor of Ghorak manor; said I'd recognize him as soon as I saw him. I was to take the Teleportation network from the Mages Guild to Caldera, then on to Ald'ruhn, where I'd stay with Gildan and learn to read and write until I was reasonably literate.

I didn't argue.

((()))

Merchant was a damn _scamp_. He paid good money though, and like Caius said, didn't ask questions about where the armor had come from. I'm carrying an extra three thousand Septims now, enough that I had to get two more purses. Where the hell did he get all that gold?

((()))

_Editor's Note: The following is the beginning of Lord Nerevar's Journal from when he began to write as events occurred. It is reasonably obvious that the writing is somewhat simplistic at first, but unsurprisingly, the quality rapidly rose as did his skill._

((()))

24 Last Seed, 427, 3rd Era.

Tremona Maren, not a fun Mer, but she knows her stuff, and so I'm literate now. It's really annoying, needing to use so many smaller words because I don't know the proper way to write them yet, makes me feel like an idiot. She wasn't fun to learn from, but she pushed me hard, and from what she said, and I agree, since I actually knew how to read, but was just really bad at it, all I needed was intense practice. I'm under orders to read a book a week for the next year and start keeping a journal, something I'm not going to disagree with.

Stayed with Gildan (another Blade, magic-user) while I was in Ald'ruhn, but now it's back to Balmora.

((()))

"Good," Caius said with a nod after I'd demonstrated some basic reading skills, "Reading is pretty damn essential, but more importantly, you've shown that you're not too proud to know when you're ignorant and need not to be, and that you can _follow orders_. There aren't a lot of Blades, so I've got big plans for you, and you need to learn to follow before you can lead. Any trouble from your wounds left?"

"Naw," I said, shaking my head, "Nothing since the day after your healer looked at me."

"_Our_ healer," Caius said pointedly, "You're a Blade now, and we look out for each other. Which gets me to your next orders; in the public eye, Tyermaillin is a healer, I'm a retired old legionnaire with a Skooma problem, and you're nobody. At least, not yet; you need a cover story."

"Cover story?" I asked, more than a little confused, "I'm a warrior, it's pretty self-explanatory."

"That's what you _do_," Cosades said, "It's not how you earn a living. Someone like you, you're probably best off joining the Fighter's Guild and taking a few odd jobs, but the Imperial Cult or Imperial Legion would work well as well."

I bristled when he mentioned the Legion, but he waved dismissively.

"I said that it'd _work_," He said, "Not that it'd be a good idea. What I think is a _good_ idea, is going and joining the Mage's Guild. I know what happened to you last time you got into a serious scrap, and I think you'd agree that knowing how to deal with magic would serve you well."

"I'd have to agree you there," I growled, staring down at the floor, more than a little pissed with myself, "I'll look into it after running around with the Fighter's Guild for a while."

"Good," Caius said, "And remember that someone's trying to turn the Fighters against the Thieves, keep your ears open."

((()))

Joined the Fighter's Guild, killed some Rats on the orders of Eydis Fire-Eye. The big suckers, apparently Vvardenfell doesn't _have_ normal rats, and three of the things got into some poor Dunmer woman's house. Unlike certain other women I've met in this land, which reminds me...

((()))

Heading out to try to find that idiot noblewoman's bandit, when I reported in about the rats to Eydis and she found out I was heading South, she told me to take care of some Egg Poachers on my way down. Going to catch some rack time in the guild hall bunks and get repairs done on my sword and shield before leaving Balmora tomorrow.

((()))

25 Last Seed, 427, 3rd Era.

Cleaned the Egg Poachers out; they nearly got me, I _really_ need a better weapon and armor. Once I'm done finding this damn bandit I'll look into it. Only reason I'm alive is because of the health potions I took from the Guild Equipment chest; I wish my old team had the funds to keep those kinds of resources on hand; they're _damn_ helpful.

I'm going to go track down that bandit now that Caius has given me some free time, and see if that idiot noblewoman was really doing more than fooling around with me.

((()))

26 Last Seed, 427, 3rd Era.

Found the bandit in Pelagiad; I'm happy to say that I'm in better shape now, and it didn't exhaust me just to make the run down. Endurance is key for any warrior who intends to fight larger groups of foes. He _claims_ that he actually regretted robbing from her, and gave me a note to take her. Now I just have to find her.

((()))

Idiot woman _went back into the wilds to look for her damn bandit_. I swear, those two _deserve_ each other.

((()))

27 Last Seed, 427, 3rd Era.

I had to personally escort Maurrie Aurmine back to Balmora to keep her from coming to a stupid end. Even the _rats_ out here could easily kill her. On the upshot, while I was looking for her I camped out one night in a half-collapsed cave, and I found some Ebony inside of it. I'll ask Caius what I should do about that.

((()))

Apparently the cave was the lost remnant of the Vassir-Didanat Mine, which was lost to a Telvanni raid during inter-house fighting, and hidden by some sort of spell-ward. Being under the blessings of The Atronach, I just strolled right through the ward. I _thought_ I'd felt unusually refreshed the next morning, which I know from experience was most likely the result of absorbing the spell while I slept; Caius says I should look up either Crassius Curio or Dram Bero if I want a reward from house Hlaalu for the find, but warned that Curio is rather strange.

Off to Vivec with me, looks like I'll be giving the Mages Guild my business again.

((()))

29 Last Seed, 427, 3rd Era.

I never want to have _anything_ to do with Hlaalu politics _EVER AGAIN_. Unless Caius gives me a remit to go back down to Vivec and _kill_ _every last one of those corrupt bastards_. Eventually tracked down the only non-crazy non-thug member of the Hlaalu Council, Dram Bero, who was _in hiding_ in the basement of a supposedly haunted manner in St Olms Canton. It was worth the trouble though, because he gave me a Daedric Katana in exchange for the location of the mine, which is a finer blade than any I've ever been able to use before.

Also, the Ordinators are all egotistical _jerks_.

((()))

30 Last Seed, 427, 3rd Era.

I think Eydis was jealous when she saw my new sword; sent me up to Caldera to kill four Telvanni operatives (new word of the day, that one), solo. I finally bought a breastplate and greaves, good steel, from the guild smith in Balmora, Wayn, before I set out. Mage's teleportation will get me right up there, so this should be a quick job.

((()))

I love this sword. Not only is it perfectly balanced and supernaturally durable, but it is also supernaturally _sharp_. The one Telvanni with the bow was a mild threat, but that's what shields are for; the others fell like chumps, my shiny new Daedric Katana cutting through their armor like it wasn't even there.

I'm a happy swordsman.

((()))

31 Last Seed, 427, 3rd Era.

Talked with Caius again, he said to keep busy with things that _don't_ involve getting attention amongst the ruling ranks of the five great houses. Subtle never was my strong point; he made a suggestion though, and I'll be thinking it over while I do some training with the instructors at the Fighter's Guild.

((()))

1 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

On advice from Caius, I'm joining the Mage's Guild. Being part of two Guilds will solidify my cover story, as most people will pretty easily conclude (new word of the day, that), that as part of two guilds, I'm plenty busy. Shame most of the locals don't know that most activities in the Imperial Guilds are voluntary, but that's what they get for being elitists disinterested in learning about them. On top of that, he made a rather convincing argument that even with the sign of the Atronach watching over me, my lack of knowledge of magic has been my greatest weakness for a long time. When I still had living friends, I didn't need to worry about that, but the Blades rarely have the luxury of operating even in pairs, much less larger groups, so I need to learn more self-sufficience.

So, off to the Mage's Guild with me.

((()))

"_You_ wish to join the Mage's Guild?" Ranis Arthrys, the Balmora Guild Steward said, disbelief clear in her voice.

I couldn't exactly blame the Dunmer; I'm a big bloody Redguard, wearing steel armor, and carrying a steel shield and Daedric Katana. I did notice that the sword in particular caught her eye.

"Yeah," I growled back, "I didn't use to need to deal with magic much myself, I had friends who handled that in our little band of adventurers. I _had_ friends."

I put a particular emphasis on the last part, and by the way Arthrys shifted posture and the look in her eyes, I could tell that she had _personal_ experience with the sort of thing I was talking about. A tense silence passed for a while, but Arthrys wasn't willing to look away, and eventually she spoke.

"I'll make you an Associate member on a trial basis," She eventually said, "Go down and talk with Ajira in the basement. She's got some errands that need running, and how you handle them will show me how serious they are."

"Fair enough," I said roughly, "Thanks for the opportunity."

((()))

Ajira is (unsurprisingly with a name like that) a Khajit; she's young, a dab hand with potions, and apparently doesn't believe in getting out of the lab much. She's sent me off to collect a bunch of mushrooms for her; this could take a little while. I think I'll treat it as endurance training.

((()))

2 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

I'd forgotten how much more difficult swamps are when you're in heavy armor; I'll not be likely to forget again any time soon. On the upshot, Ajira taught me a basic recipe for a healing potion, and walked me through the process four times until she was sure I'd gotten it right. It was pretty simple stuff, only using her mortar and pestle, but it takes practice to get consistency (new word of the day) in pulping and mixing the ingredients properly. So now I know a bit about potion-making, and I've got four healing potions; Ajira says they won't work _well_, but they will _work_.

She might be a bit lazy when it comes to legwork, but Ajira's a good teacher, she knows her potions stuff, and she knows how to be patient with muscleheads like me while we learn.

((()))

3 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

Ranis spoke with me today, and I'm a proper Apprentice in the Mage's Guild now; she took me around to meet all the members too.

There's Estirdalin, an Altmer who's almost a walking stereotype of her kind; she's tall, she's got a slightly elitist attitude, and she's got the somewhat intense magical prowess to back it up. She's skilled with Conjuration, Alteration, and Illusion, and according to Ranis, _very_ good with Destruction.

There's Sharn Gra-Muzgob, as the name makes pretty clear, an Orc. She's up on Mysticism and Alteration, but her specialization is Restoration, something I'll keep in mind next time I'm in need of a healer.

There's Marayn Dren, who is apparently the only male (and only Dunmer aside from Ranis) in the Balmora chapter of the guild, an Alteration specialist who dabbles in Mysticism and Destruction.

Masilinic Merian is either an Imperial or a Breton, it can be a little hard to tell sometimes, either way she's the Guild Guide, and unsurprisingly as someone tied into the Teleportation network, she's a Mysticism/Conjuration specialist.

I've already described Ajira, my personal favorite in the Balmora guild and the branch Alchemist, but then there's one more member.

Galbedir. The Balmora enchantment specialist, she's a _short_ Altmer (I hadn't known they _made_ short Altmer), with more attitude than Estirdalin, and she wears a damn _court robe_ for _every day work_. I got the feeling that she and Ajira don't like each other; considering Galbedir's obsessively perfect appearance, and the very utilitarian clothes Ajira wears for working with potions, _why_ isn't hard to figure out. If Galbedir isn't from a noble family, she's got to be part of the wealthiest damn merchant Altmer family in Vvardenfell.

((()))

Ajira's apparently pretty sharp; she noticed that Galbedir rubbed me the wrong way as well, and asked me for help with a 'special' task. Apparently Ajira and Galbedir have a bet going about who can make Journeyman first, and she wants me to perform a creative bit of sabotage by replacing a Soul Gem in the Altmer's desk with a fake. I'm a bit antsy about this, but between Galbedir being an arrogant noble (which mashes all _kinds_ of berserk triggers in me), and the fact that if she's as good as she thinks, she'll be able to spot the fake, I'm going through with it.

((()))

4 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

Swap went off without a hitch; Ajira's outright purring with happiness, and will be spending today teaching me how to make Restore Magicka potions, which involve some _expensive_ ingredients.

((()))

Potion-making went well; Ajira's a nice girl, and from a few casual comments she's made, she seems to have her own _issues_ with nobility. Asked me to go flower-hunting for her tomorrow; after spending all of today indoors, I'm looking forward to stretching my legs.

((()))

_Editor's Note: Galbedir was in fact the daughter of a noble family, a particularly supremacist branch of the Altmer nobility at that; it is suspected she was effectively banished to Morrowind solely for being insufficiently tall to be a 'proper' Altmer._

((()))

5 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

Had to run all the way down to Lake Amaya for some of the flowers; I'm seriously starting to wish I'd checked the non-guild apothecaries for the ingredients first. Still, it's good exercise.

((()))

6 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

Looks like Ajira is in the final stages of writing her reports, and somewhat distracted; she asked me to grab her a particular kind of bowl; it looks like she's not used to handling so many potion ingredients without turning them into actual potions, and has run out of vessels for keeping them in. Off to the trader next door for the bowl.

((()))

Well, looks like Ajira isn't the only one ready to play a little underhanded in the bet between her and Galbedir. Little shit went and stole Ajira's reports while she was using the little kitty's room, and hid them somewhere in the mage's guild. Ajira's just about completely lost it, apparently she's got more riding on reaching Journeyman than just some drakes, she's pretty desperate for help finding the things, and I suspect that in her state, her ability to search effectively is just about nil.

Part of me feels like this is an appropriate response for Ajira's own efforts to sabotage Galbedir, but the most part of me is more aware of the differences. Ajira had me set up Galbedir with a fake that, if the Altmer was sharp enough about, she'd be able to spot and work around; the gem I replaced was an empty lesser, the things are pretty damn cheap, and I _know_ Galbedir has more of them in her possession. Ajira's reports, on the other hand, will have to be rewritten from scratch, and unless the Khajiit has damn good memory, she'll need to get new samples, and do the research all over again.

I _really_ don't want to go mushroom hunting again. Had to let my armor air out for _hours_ to get the smell off.

((()))

Galbedir's not much good at hiding things, apparently, Scarcely took an hour to find the reports, though I'm going to have to talk with Ajira about some of the more 'interesting' parts of the contents.

((()))

"I've found your reports, Ajira," I told the Khajiit as I stepped into the lab-space she shared with Merian, "Have-"

"Thaaaaank yous!" Ajira burst out, making use of her feline physiology to leap over her workbench and tackle-hug me, her tail writhing furiously.

Talos, the girl barely jostled me; I know I'm a big man, but she can't weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds. It's hard to be mad at a cute girl that reminds you of your adopted little sister when she's wrapped around you and nuzzling your chest in gratitude; it was probably a good thing I wasn't wearing my breastplate, she might have damaged her muzzle. I turned a meaningful look towards Merian, and she nodded, stepping out of the room to give Ajira and I some space.

"You're welcome Ajira," I said a bit gruffly; I wasn't really good at the whole 'gentle' thing anymore (not that I'd been very good at it in the first place), "I can't exactly say I'm happy about some of the things you put in those reports though."

Ajra froze, her furry arms still wrapped around my chest.

"Bill Hawker is reading Ajira's reports?" The Khajiit said weakly.

"Bill _is_ reading the reports," I said, some anger leaking into my voice, "And I can't say I'm impressed by you claiming credit for my work."

Ajira pulled back slowly, her tail dropping. She wouldn't meet my eyes, and her entire body-posture screamed 'shame;' I wasn't as steamed as I'd been at first, but I wasn't willing to just let this slide either. A few awkward minutes passed, but eventually the Khajiit worked up the courage to speak again.

"Ajira is..." She started, "Ajira is... _afraid_ of forests and swamps and lakes and outdoors in general."

I didn't say anything; I didn't think she was feeding me guarshit, but 'afraid' wasn't a good enough reason for claiming to have done the leg-work in gathering potions ingredients that I had.

"When Ajira is barely more than a kitten," She continued when she saw that I wasn't satisfied, "The Pride leader in Ajira's part of Elswyr is seeing she has a talent for potions, and has her apprenticed to the Pride's Alchemist. Alchemist is old female, and is happy to have someone to do the boring simple-work at first, but as Ajira grows, she starts being jealous of Ajira's natural skills, and _especially_ of Ajira's looks. Ajira was a very pretty Khajiit, and the males paid her lots of attention. Old Alchemist never had mate, and is very, _very_ jealous. One day she sends Ajira to the very edge of Elswyr, right on the coast, and when Ajira gets there, slavers is waiting."

My fists clenched, I saw red, and I came the closest to entering the Blood Rage without being injured I'd been since _that_ fight.

Damn memories.

"You don't need to say anything more," I told Ajira gently, this time the gentleness came a _lot_ more easily, in spite of my anger, "I understand, I've dealt with slavers before, and I hate their ruddy guts. Took out a group down along the Bitter Coast last month, they had two Argonians and a Khajiit named Badaargo in their pen." Ajira's eyes widened as I spoke, "I cut them loose, but I didn't have the time to get them all the way back to Elswyr and Black Marsh. I _know_ what it's like to be violently separated from your home, friends, and family, and you don't have to justify that to me. I-"

She cut me off with another tackle-hug. I'd say she was affectionate, but she was trembling, so I think she was more looking for comfort than expressing gratitude. I carefully backed up to the raised platform Merian used for teleportation, then sat down, letting Ajira fall into my lap as I did so. It took about a quarter of an hour to calm her down, during which Merian poked her head in once and gestured for me to hurry up; I suspected she had someone waiting for transportation just outside the door.

"Ajira," I eventually said when the girl pulled back a little, "I won't tell Ranis about you fudging the reports a little on one condition."

Ajira trembled at my words but nodded.

"Some time after we both make Journeyman," I told her seriously, "You have to go out for a walk in the forest. I'll even escort you personally, but you can't live afraid of the outdoors forever."

Ajira was still too worked up to say anything, but she nodded, and stood up, wiping the wet fur around her eyes, before managing a timid smile.

"Come on," I said, standing up myself, managing a bittersweet smile myself, "We need to let Merian work again, and I need to go get some rest."

More like go get drunk. Ajira's story had touched on _far_ too many memories.

((()))

Storming outside. Damn well suits my mood. I'm heading to the nearest bar to get shit-faced drunk.

((()))

8 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

Don't remember much of yesterday, except that thinking 'Greef for my Grief' was damn hilarious. Woke up at Caius place; he was torn between amusement and being pissed at me for getting pissed. Says he's got orders for me once I'm sober again.

((()))

Caius told me to go ask Hasphat Antabolis some questions about the Sixth House and the Nerevarine Cult. I'm probably going to have to do the man a favor, but Caius says to put up and do it, even if it's hard; I'm hoping the fact that we're both members of the Fighter's Guild will mitigate things somewhat, but we'll see.

Caius said something else that stuck in my head; apparently Hasphat is big on Morrowind History, and Caius said I should learn something from him, because "No point in being part of history if you're too ignorant to understand it."

I'll be remembering that about Caius, he's playing a bigger game than just Imperial Intelligence here.

((()))

9 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

I'm finally back on form with my sword; Hasphat sent me to a Dwemer ruin called Arkngthand to recover a Dwemer Puzzle Box; the place was infested with bandits. _Was_ being the key words, I killed about an even dozen of them before I found the Puzzle Box and left. They were idiots, and never came at me more than two at once, not to mention only a handful had better than leather armor, not that it made much difference against my new Daedric Katana. I think I'll have to name the thing, I'm becoming quite fond of it.

Back to Balmora to see what Hasphat has for me.

((()))

10 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

According to Hasphat, the Sixth House was the (surprise!) sixth great house amongst the Dunmer, and was destroyed for turning traitor way back when. 'Destroyed' in the sense that there were some survivors, and they apparently crop up causing trouble every now and then, he gave me a package for Caius with more information. When I asked him about Morrowind history, he also gave me a book, 'On Morrowind,' by Erramanwe of Sunhold, I'll be spending the rest of the day reading it while Caius goes through the package from Hasphat.

((()))

Interesting book, and actually relevant to the situation here in Morrowind. Explains some of why Hlaalu has so much money, and why there was never a real war when the Empire took Morrowind. Having one of your physical gods show up and say a treaty has been agreed upon _would_ tend to force peace. Makes me curious about what the _current_ power structure is like, and how House Indoril became fanatical enough that large numbers of their nobility would commit _suicide_ over not getting to fight to the death. Screwy as all hell.

Also, makes me curious about why Vivec would hate the Altmer enough to give the Emperor an artificial god to fight them with, I'd never known that was where the Numidium came from.

((()))

Caius has sent me to go work at the Mage's Guild some more, he wants me to get some information from Sharn Gra-Muzgob, who apparently knows more about the Nerevarine Cult than Hasphat did. Also says I should spend some time with my 'Khajiit girlfriend.'

Jerk.

((()))

And apparently I am now a grave robber. Not exactly what I expected to do in Imperial Service, but I suppose the Blades take all types. I'm off to steal the skull of somesuch Nerano, at a tomb in the general region of Pelagiad. I guess while I'm there, I'll loot anything else that looks like it's worth taking; it'll be almost like old times, except for-

Dammit. Screw this, I'm bringing alcohol with me, if I die, I die.

((()))

13 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

Apparently, Caius isn't above reading this journal while I'm sleeping. Considering he's a spymaster, I shouldn't exactly be surprised, especially given that I've been working for him less than a month. I'm still not very happy about it, but then, he's not happy about finding apparently-suicidal writings on my part either.

Nobody in life gets everything that they want.

That aside, he's ordered me to take some time to rest and de-stress, including 'spending some time with that Khajiit, or finding a real girlfriend if you're not actually interested in her'. At least he was happy I got the information he wanted from Sharn.

((()))

Oh yeah; tomb-raiding went fine, nothing particularly notable in the way of loot, and the only bit of trouble I had was with a skeleton archer loaded up with Paralysis arrows. Fortunately, it was too stupid to do anything but keep shooting at my center of mass, so my armor protected me from what otherwise would've been mortal blows while I was paralyzed. Still hurt; once I've got more money again, I'll be looking into some better armor, burned most of it on training and a high-quality Mortar and Pestle I just bought from the uptown Alchemist for working with Ajira.

((()))

14 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

Got a decent chunk of change for the miscellaneous loot from the raid, particularly the enchanted arrows I looted from a couple skeletons.

Also, ran into a nutjob on the street, a Dunmer who came up to me as I was heading to the Mage's Guild, with an unhealthy gleam in his eyes. I nearly drew my sword and ran him through when he stepped into my personal space, but he didn't make any aggressive (word of the day, that) movements. His _words_ though...

I'll be taking this whole Sixth House business more seriously, it's not just an academic matter now.

((()))

And now I'm having disturbing dreams. A huge Dunmer in a golden mask talking to a group of corpses, and in my dream, _I_ was one of the corpses. I don't know enough about magic to tell if that was targeted at me, or something going on in the area that I just caught the edge of, but either way, it looks like what Caius has me looking into is serious business.

((()))

16 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

Ajira was _very_ happy to see me again; apparently Caius was doing more than just trying to set me up with a girl. Me being out of the guild-hall for a few days after our last talk had her worried that I was upset with her, and it took a long time to calm her down. I don't claim to understand women.

I'll be spending the next few days going back and forth between the Fighter's and the Mage's Guild, training. Ajira's a nice kid, but I don't think I could handle _too_ much of her just now, she's so... perky.

((()))

21 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

Three more Dark Brotherhood Assassins showed up in Balmora tonight. One attacked me while I was trying to sleep in the Fighter's Guild, after working on some speed training with Hasphat. At first I thought he'd overestimated his skill, because his light armor was _no_ match for my Daedric weapon, but when I retreated to the Mage's Guild after taking him out (and looting the body), two more were waiting for me.

All three managed to ambush me in locations where no other Guild Members noticed the fight. They knew where to find me, when to find me, how to avoid the notice of others, and this time they sent three, instead of one. Someone _really_ wants me dead, and I'm willing to bet I'll be seeing Assassins with better skill and weapons more dangerous than lightly-enchanted daggers down the road. Disposing of the bodies was a bitch, but fortunately the attack coming at night meant that (most) everyone was sleeping. I need to talk to Caius about this.

((()))

"This is serious business," Caius said gravely, "If the Dark Brotherhood made a second attempt, that means that the commission they've taken on you has become a manner of professional honor for them. They won't stop trying until either you're dead, or they _think _you're dead. You need to get out of town for a while."

"I tend to agree," I said gruffly, "Some of the people in the Guilds are becoming friends, and Ajira's like a cute little sister but with fur. I don't want any of them getting caught in the fighting."

"You could die yourself," Caius said curtly, "Either way, I was thinking of putting Rithleen on this, but I'm going to take a chance on you even though you're new, do _not_ mess this up."

He stepped up and glared me straight in the eyes. I was armed, armored, and standing right in front of the man, who was just wearing his pants, but he still managed to be legitimately frightening in that moment. It's not often that I run into a foe I'm not sure that I can take, but in that moment, I realized that Caius was very probably one of them.

"I've heard whispers from the Legion fort up in Gnisis," Caius said, stepping back a little, the intensity radiating off of him fading a little, "_Disturbing_ whispers. Head on up to Gnisis and join the Imperial Legion, General Darius of the 87th is the only Legion head recruiting locally right now, which I don't think is coincidental to the things I've been hearing. If Darius is hard up on manpower, someone like you should help whip the soldiers he's got into shape, he'll be _more_ than happy to have you. Just keep your ears open, especially for plots involving assassination.

"I'll get on it," I said, nodding my head and turning to leave.

"And don't forget to tell your girlfriend where you're going," Caius called as I opened the door, "So she doesn't worry this time."

Dammit, Caius, she's _not_ my girlfriend.

((()))

I suppose I should mention some of what I did with Ajira before the Assassins showed up. I already mentioned that the Khajit is gifted with both potions and teaching, but it wasn't until the last week or so that I was really able to appreciate just _how_ gifted she is. She made Journeyman after all the fuss about her reports was sorted out, which considering that she's actually only sixteen, is somewhat impressive. Not genius level, from what I've gathered, but most members of the Mage's Guild didn't have to suffer through however-long in slavery before escaping to join the Mage's Guild and take a career in alchemy back up.

She spent the better part of five days teaching me the basics of Alchemy, as well as helping me memorize the primary uses of most basic ingredients. When I got too antsy at the lack of physical activity, I'd head next door to do some training at the Fighter's Guild, but aside from that, it was Mortar and Pestle, Calcinator and Retort, mashing, grinding, boiling, straining, and on, and on, and on. She was teaching me in her own style of potion-making, one which was more complex than that which produced standardized, store-bought potions, and had a lesser initial impact, but lasted much longer, and had a greater overall effect. Her style requires higher-quality equipment to function properly, and I cleaned myself out of drakes to buy a top-quality Mortar and Pestle from Nacarlye of Whitehaven before we really got started. One final thing that she taught me, though she stuttered as she said it, likely due to its association with bad memories, was that I should keep my out for _anything_ useful when I'm on the road, one never knows what animal or plant part might become part of a desperately-needed potion down the line.

At this point, I can actually legitimately consider myself an Alchemist, if only one of basic skill.

((()))

AN: I'm trying to find logical breaking points for chapters with this; these first may have been shorter than I prefer, but the next arc, in Gnisis, should be more than long enough to make up for that.


	3. Gnisis and the Death's Head Legion

AN: And here's the big one.

((()))

22 Heartfire, 427, 3rd Era.

Gnisis. Strange name for a simple town; it rests between a rather steep ridge and a modest cliff that bottoms out on an inlet, and its economy runs primarily off of two things: A Kwama Egg mine, and being host to the northernmost (and westernmost) Imperial Legion stronghold in Vvardenfell. It also hosts a Tribunal Temple and an old Velothi stronghold, currently occupied by an exceedingly reclusive Telvanni Arch-Mage, but his presence is only known as a matter of Imperial Record. It has a modest population of some hundreds, some living in dwellings carved into the face of the ridge bordering one side of town, the rest in stone houses built in a mixture of the blocky style favored by Hlaalu, and the curved and domed style of Redoran.

It was a lively place, and I don't recall seeing a single inhabitant who wasn't a Dunmer or wearing the emblem of the Imperial Legion, and the surfeit (word of the day, that) of Legionaries made it easy to get directions to where General Darius could be found. Which, oddly enough, was in the Madach Tradehouse. From the moment I set foot in his (rather nice, but still utilitarian) room at the tradehouse, the man was glad to see me.

"Looking to join up?" Darius called, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was sizing me up, or the way his eyes briefly lingered on the hilt of my Daedric Katana.

"I've heard you're recruiting up here," I admitted, "And it's damn hard to find a group on my par to go ruin-diving at Dwemer or Daedric sites here in Vvardenfell. Well, groups that aren't made up entirely of elitist Dunmer with skulls thicker than a Kagouti and no time for 'outlanders' like me."

"Bored to tears?" Darius said with a sharp grin, "I can relate. Sure you're willing to become a legionary though? You don't look like a man used to taking orders."

It occurs to me at this point, that a few things about Darius should be explained. First, he was a General, which meant he was also a member of one of the Imperial Knight orders, Protectors of the Realm in his case, and _all_ Knights know their way around a sword. Darius was kitted out in a full set of Imperial Templar armor, which was better than anything I've ever had enough money to wear, and even though it was superbly maintained, I could make out the faint differences in coloration where damage had been repaired in the past. Even if his blade was just a standard Imperial Broadsword, the way it rested on his hip said a great deal about just how well he knew to use it.

In total, Darius wasn't some noble who'd bought a commission and been handed his command on a platter, he actually _knew_ how to fight.

"I was thinking something more along the lines of an Instructor's position," I admitted, a plan forming in my mind, "I'm willing to bet I know more about swordplay than every legionary in your garrison put together."

"I'd not say my Legionaries are particularly skilled," Darius said, a challenge in his eyes, "But there are a _lot_ of them."

"I've a lot of skill," I replied, "How about a challenge; you versus me, first person to make contact with the other's breastplate is the victor. I win, you take me on in an instructor's position, you win, I'll join as rank and file."

"I've little desire to feel a Daedric blade kiss my breastplate," Darius said archly, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to kill me."

"Have your bodyguard lend me his blade," I said, unbuckling my sword and sheathe from my belt, "He can hold mine while we fight."

"Quite the display of trust," Darius said, but I could see in his eyes that he'd already decided to accept the offer, "That blade is worth as much gold as a small mansion in Cyrodil, not to mention rarer. What if we simply decided to take it?"

"If I join up," I said with a grin, "I'll be sleeping in your barracks. If I can't trust you not to take my blade or life while I'm awake, better to find out now than when I'm sleeping."

Darius laughed at that, a deep, rich sound, something that surprised me until I realized that he hadn't just agreed because he wanted me in his legion, but because he wanted to _fight_ as well. He was one of those rare few, like myself, that crossed blades just for _fun_. This fight just became much more interesting...

"Give him your sword, Nash," Darius said, nodding to his Orcish bodyguard, "And stay well out of the way, it's been _far_ too long since I've been able to cut loose..."

I swapped blades with the Orc, letting him know with my eyes that he would be taking _good_ care of my blade while it was in his care, then turned my attention to the General, drawing the broadsword and slipping into a combat stance.

There are many competing schools of thought on how to master the sword in Tamriel. Altmer tend to favor high-mobility, elegant styles that most Redguards (including myself) think have lost some of their functionality to artistic concepts; their styles have specific moves, each style operating on a concept or motif, many based off of the movements of animals. The Imperials have a handful of styles they created themselves, extremely utilitarian methods developed on the field of battle with little finesse; more advanced Imperial Swordsmen tend to pick up Altmer styles, and in my experience the basic utilitarian mindset built in their core training holds them in better steed than those who start with the Altmer forms. Nord 'styles' were all about overwhelming power, though the ethnic preference for the axe probably had something to do with that, Bretons usually just cribbed off of Imperials or Redguards, depending on what they had the opportunity to learn, and the only Dunmer I'd fought so far hadn't been good enough for me to learn much of anything regarding their styles.

Redguards though, we both have no style, and the _best_ style, because we don't teach a philosophy based around a specific concept, form, or set of moves, we learn anything and everything that works. In Hammerfell, boys start practicing with wooden swords the day they learn to walk, and as many girls do as don't. Your average Redguard 'civilian' is better with a sword than a grunt Imperial Legionary, though the more honest amongst us admit it's partially because the Imperials put a lot of emphasis on the Spear in large-scale combat. All that's really necessary to become _exceedingly_ skilled with a sword in Hammerfell is to move around a lot, because each community practices stances, moves, and tricks from every style they've encountered on the battlefield, learning them, refining them, devising counters to them. Walk around enough, and you'll pick up most of _everything_, and it leads to a Redguard's greatest strength in combat:

_Unpredictability_.

"I'll warn you," Darius said as he squared off against me, drawing his own sword, a utilitarian match to my own, "A little blood rage won't be enough to beat me."

Of course, it also helps that Redguards have a reputation for being battlefield berserkers for a _reason_. Come enough anger, desperation, or a Redguard's blood being spilled in more than just a minor scratch, and our bodies go into overdrive, kicking out a burst of inhuman strength great enough to match some Daedra, and more than enough to overwhelm most mortal swordsmen. That'll make up for one hell of a mistake.

Darius took the initiative, slipping into an offensive pattern from the Dancing Hummingbird Altmer school, and the fight began.

Dancing Hummingbird is basically the extreme logical extension of the basic principle of all Altmer styles; speed and mobility. It's not a bad choice for a spar where the objective is just a touch, and _very_ good for probing your opponent's defenses; Darius was honestly pushing me. I think it's the first time in my life I've seen someone move that fast in heavy armor, and it damn well impressed me. He wasn't quite fast _enough_ to get past my defenses though, so I gave ground, retreating in a circular pattern around his rather spacious room, letting him wear out his initial rush before I attempted a counter-attack.

He caught on to what I was doing before he was worn all the way down, and slowed his offensive before he exhausted himself, switching to one of the Imperial Knight styles, something much more balanced for offense and defense, though the fact that we were fighting without shields unbalanced the style a little. I shifted from a purely defensive approach to something a little more balanced myself, and really began to miss my Daedric blade. It was better balanced than the Imperial Broadsword for one, but more relevantly, it's supernaturally-keen edge would have destroyed Darius' blade with a handful of the more powerful blows I laid out against him.

Darius was as sharp defensively as he was offensively, and my initial probing didn't reveal any holes in his defenses. If either of us had been out for blood, the fight would have ended by that point, but both of us were avoiding the kind of all-out strikes that require a commitment to an offensive that ends a fight one way or another. Instead, Darius backed off slightly, and I did likewise, sizing each other up again. It didn't take long for both of us to realize that Darius was tiring more quickly than I; whether that was because I was wearing less armor, he was older, or I was in better shape, neither of us knew, and it didn't really matter either way. What we _did_ both recognize, was that if this turned into an endurance match, I'd win, so Darius went on the offensive again.

The style he used this time was one I'd only seen once before, an Argonian style named after the word for Slaughterfish in their tongue, one that _did_ take an all-or-nothing approach, like the Slaughterfish has only its fang-filled mouth to attack with, the rest of the muscular body serving solely to support a decisive lunge. Darius lunged, hurling himself across the distance between us with a speed I'd never seen in another man before in my life. Even as he attacked, I knew there had to be more to his plan than the single lunge, he'd tested my speed, and as fast as he was, the distance between us was too great for him to preempt my ability to defend myself.

The obvious thing to do was to parry and riposte, he was leaving himself horribly over-extended, but instead I leapt to my right, avoiding his lunge entirely, and as a consequence, I was able to block the knife he'd palmed into his left hand, rather than take a blow to my armored chest. Darius did something I'd never seen in a swordsman before; using the resistance provided by my block, he pivoted his lunge into a spin, dropping low and sweeping my legs out from beneath me; I was forced to defend against both his broadsword and his dagger as I fell, and he managed to torque (new word for the day, that) in the leverage to disarm me as I went down. I rolled as I landed, already drawing my own dagger, one of the silver ones the Assassins had attempted to bring against me, and lunged to my feet, ready to defend myself as best as I was able.

A faint 'clink' sounded as my borrowed broadsword fell from where it'd been thrown into the air by Darius' disarm, the tip landing directly on his breastplate.

"Looks like I win," I said with a grin.

Darius stared at the blade in disbelief as it clattered to the floor between us.

"That can _not_ have been planned," He said flatly, glaring at the instrument of his defeat.

"No," I said, "But I always have been damn lucky."

"A deal's a deal," Darius said gruffly, "And even if I _should_ have won, you've shown yourself to _easily_ be skilled enough to put my men through the kind of training that I don't have the time for with all the paperwork I need to wade through. Consider yourself posted as a trainer, Recruit."

((()))

Darius and I talked for some time after the sparring match finished, about any number of things. As often happens with men of martial tradition, once you've established yourself as peers in regards to physical prowess, there's a certain kind of kinship between the two of you, and Darius took the opportunity to get a weight off of his shoulders.

It turns out that he pissed off the member of the Imperial Legion put in charge of the Vvardenfell province, Varus Vantinius, by calling him out on losing some artifact of deep significance to the Imperial Legion as a whole, and got sent up here as scut work. Worse, Vantinius is shorting Darius on funding as far as he possibly can within the letter of the law, and Darius suspects that the letter of the law includes 'losing' a number of equipment and material requisition forms.

The area that the Deathshead Legion had been in charge of patrolling and policing before Darius was put in charge, _already_ spanned from Khuul, which is practically on top of the border to the Ashlands, to Khartag Point, which _used_ to be part of Fort Buckmoth's jurisdiction before Blight activity around Red Mountain picked up. Shortly after Darius took command, Vantinius managed to convince the legion commander in Mournhold to add responsibility for naval patrols to the Vvardenfell garrisons, and promptly made Darius responsible for the entire Sheogorad region, and most of the Bitter Coast. Considering that the Bitter Coast is a hive of smugglers working to trade black-market goods through to Skyrim, and the Sheogorad region is the only part of Vvardenfell exposed to the open ocean, that's ridiculous. According to Darius, either coast sees more illicit trade or pirate activity than the Ascadian Isles or Azura's Coast do combined.

Darius has one ship, three experienced sailors, and a lot of 'lost' requests for more personnel, material, and funds. The only funding that's dependable is the payroll, and even then, Vantinius keeps transferring 'problem' cases, exclusively Orcs, up to Darius command, and transferring _out_ every soldier with a good record that he can. He's been trying to organize the construction of a small shipyard for about two years now, since it became obvious that he was _never_ going to get more vessels transferred to his command, and Gnisis is a damn strategic place for a shipyard anyways, but almost all of the land is all owned by one of the Redoran Councilors, and without more pull in either Ald'ruhn or Ebonheart, he can't wrestle any of it free.

On the whole, it's the most successful attempt to sink someone's career without killing them I've ever seen. Darius is hoping that if I can whip the rank and file into shape, something he's had to dedicate a _lot_ of time to with all the problem cases he's been sent, he'll be able to dedicate more of his own towards solving his other problems. Considering the puddle of guar-shit his life seems to have gotten stuck in, I hope he's right.

((()))

_Editor's Note: For those unfamiliar with the fauna of Morrowind, Guars are bipedal reptillian pack beasts, with large, bulbous heads, and small, near-impotent forearms. The Kagouti referred to by Lord Nerevar earlier in this account is a slightly larger, more muscular, and armored biped, with tusks, a bony frill over its head and neck, and no forearms. Truly, Morrowind fauna are strange and bewildering._

((()))

28 Heart Fire, 427, 3rd Era.

I swear, two weeks of training those nitwits into something approaching decent shape has been _more_ than trying. The basic sword forms they know are solid enough, especially for fighting bandits and the (somewhat dangerous) wildlife of Vvardenfell, but what's killing them all, is lack of physical fitness. None of them are _weak_, the Legion's basic requirements see to that, but proper swordsmanship, especially in chain or plate, is incredibly demanding. All of them except for the Orcs are hurting for more strength, so they don't have to strain as much in full-bore combat, and with a handful of exceptions, the Orcs are even shorter on stamina than the rest of them.

I've basically spent the last week fighting each of them to exhaustion three at a time, twice a day; none of them have landed a hit on me yet, and they _still_ all wear themselves out before I do. Some of the Troopers also object to taking orders from someone with technically lower rank; my authority over them only extends to the training field, but some of them have been serving for five or ten years, so I suppose I can understand why it grates.

All of that aside, I have my first day off today, and I'm getting the hell out of town to stretch my legs away from these idiots.

((()))

I swear, I try not to subscribe to the whole racial prejudice (new word of the day) that Orcs are all brawn and no brains (Redguards often suffer from a similar impression), but it seems like some of these muscleheads are incurable. On the other side of the ridge that marks one edge of town, I found a couple of legionaries harassing some woman at the door of her house. Why she lived outside the protection of the town's walls, I have no idea, but I was glad I'd decided to take a walk today, because it was pretty clear Bad Things would have happened to her if I hadn't happened along.

I butted my head in on things; they claimed they were under orders and tried to pull rank, which they technically had, I pulled my sword, which I _definitely_ had, and told them we were going to talk to General Darius about the whole thing.

((()))

"I said to get the Land Deed, not to _attack_ the bloody woman!" Darius raged as he glared at Largakh gro-Bulfim and Ughash gro-Batul.

"Sir," Largakh said sharply, "We did not-"

"Of course you _didn't_," Darius snarled, advancing directly into the taller Orc's personal space, "If you _had,_ we'd be having this conversation from opposite sides of a cell door. You _would_ have though, and it's a damn good thing that Hawker here came by when he did."

"Sir, this _recruit_-" Largakh began

"That _Recruit_," Darius growled, getting up into Largakh's face, "Is going to outrank you tomorrow if you don't _shut your face_, Trooper."

The Orc clammed up at _that_, though it didn't make me, personally, feel any safer. Pissing on a soldier's ego is usually good way to get them to come for your head.

"I _know_ your record gro-Bulfim," Darius said, stepping back, his voice still harsh, "And 'assaulting citizens of the Empire' is written all over it. You haven't killed anyone, but you're a drunk battlemage and you _know it_. On top of that, Hawker here is a blademaster, and that means he knows how to read body language and intent to act. He's also been an adventurer, a _good_ adventurer, and that means that he knows how to read intent to kill. Did they mean to kill her Hawker?"

"No General," I replied, "But he certainly wouldn't have gone out of his way not to."

"And that," Darius said, pointing towards me without looking away from Largakh, "Is why you're getting chamber pot duty, rather than clapped in irons. You need to learn the damn difference between acting as a police force and acting as a conquering army, _DISMISSED!_"

The last word was bellowed, and the two Orcs smartly about-faced and marched out of Darius' quarters in the Tradehouse basement.

"Get over here Hawker," Darius said tiredly once Nash had closed the door between the two Orcs, "And sit down."

Darius only had two chairs in his quarters, neither of them particularly suited to men in full armor, so we both seated ourselves _carefully_.

"I don't know if you heard," Darius said, pulling off one of his gauntlets and rubbing his face before looking up at me, "But one of the miners up at the Kwama Egg Mine, Mansilamat Vabdas, died recently in an accident. Since we're the law in this town, that means that the paperwork for that came across my desk, and low and behold, it turns out that Vabdas own some land _right on the cliff-face_, which has now passed to his widow. I ordered somebody to be sent down to buy the land from her for a slightly more than fair price. We don't have the money to pay for as much as I'd like, for reasons I've already shared with you, but she's going to need _something_ to take care of her and any kids they had now that her husband's dead. I don't know how an open-and-shut sale like this got so thoroughly torpedoed, but we _need that land_."

Darius half-growled the last, and took a moment to calm himself before continuing, looking me straight in the eye as he did so.

"With more time, I've been able to put the pressure on Vantinius, and his bureaucrats are down to 'we can't release the funds for construction until suitable land has been acquired.'" Darius sighed, before continuing, "We are _this_ close to starting to fulfill our overly-inflated objectives in a meaningful way."

Darius picked a modestly-sized sack up off of the table, and tossed it to me.

"That's eleven hundred Septims," Darius said, "After you corralled those two idiots, Widow Vabdas should be a bit more positively inclined towards you. Find out what went wrong, _and get that damn land_."

So much for my day off.

((()))

When I returned to widow Vabdas' hut, the door was locked, and it took nearly ten minutes of persistent knocking to get her to let me in through the 'annoy them into it' method. When the door began to open, I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat when I saw the woman.

Even when I'd been in Count Pundi's dungeon, I'd never seen someone so wrapped in grief. The skin around her red eyes was inflamed, tear tracks ran down her cheeks, and even with the harsh expression on her face, it wasn't _remotely_ difficult to see the pain behind it.

"What do you want?" She snarled, the effect of her anger somewhat spoiled by the watery tone to her voice.

"General Darius asked me to find out what happened here," I said after a moment's thought, "I'm one of those responsible for discipline amongst the troops, and I want to know how 'go offer to buy some land from her' turned into 'threaten to beat the Scrib jelly out of her.'"

She just glared up at me from the doorway of her house; her gaze made me more than a little uncomfortable, Sharon had always been the one to-

Dammit.

I closed my eyes and looked away. This was _not_ a time I wanted to start up with the waterworks myself.

"Come in," She said gruffly, "And we'll talk."

Five minutes later, we were seated by the modest home's fireplace, drinking Corkbulb tea, something I had never actually tried before. I honestly didn't care for it, but I'd had worse when on the road, and I did _not_ want to insult the widow's hospitality.

"I doubt you are aware, as you are new to the area," Vabdas said, her voice flat with enforced calm, "But over the last few weeks, activity at the mine has slowed down, and this has been hard on the miners and their families, my family amongst them."

I nodded my head slightly, and waited for her to continue.

"Four nights ago, my husband-" Vabdas paused for a moment, and visibly swallowed back further tears, staring down into her tea morosely, "Snuck into the mine to collect some eggs for us, as it'd gotten bad enough that we had _nothing_ for the children to eat."

She looked back up at me, and the anger was back again.

"The next morning, a legionary came by and told me my husband had died in an accident," She spat out, "_No_ I couldn't see the body, _no_ I couldn't go into the mine to try to find him, _he was just gone_."

To some surprise, I found my own anger rising.

"And now," She snarled, her anger intensifying, "More legionaries come, _demanding_ that I give up my land, my house, and go out onto the streets with my children! My husband was no weakling, he was no fool, he would not die in an _accident_ in the mine unless the very _rock it is carved from fell upon him._"

By the time she had finished speaking, she was on her feet, fists clenched, harsh breaths coursing in and out of her chest as she glared fire at me.

"This is Guar-shit," I said harshly, standing myself, "I'm going to go find out what in Oblivion happened. I will be back with _answers_."

I stood there for a moment, hesitating, before reaching out and laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I know what it's like to lose those closest to you," I said roughly, my own eyes watering slightly, "I'm sorry. I dealt with those who killed my companions, and I'll deal with whoever did your husband in."

Vabdas looked away, tears coming to her eyes, and I squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, before turning and leaving the small home.

((()))

So, this 'accident' was _inside_ of the mine, and yet no body was recovered. That's _definitely_ fishy, considering that Kwama creatures, at least according to the miners, don't eat meat, and don't let predators into the mines. Neither do the miners or the Legionary at the entrance, for that matter. Fortunately, I'm investigating on official business, so said Legionary let me in.

Time to go corpse hunting; not a fun proposition at the best of times, it's only worse when they're fresh.

((()))

I didn't really describe what an egg mine is like when I went down to deal with the poachers near Balmora, so I'll do so now. The first thing you'll notice when you actually step into an egg mine, is that it's _humid_. Kwama never set up shop in a cave without an internal source of water, and the Queen basically functions as a natural humidifier, the Workers bringing her copious amounts of water. The second thing you'll notice, is that it's _warm_. The Queen heats the water as she exhales it into the air, the Workers produce some heat, the Warriors produce a _lot_ of heat, the Foragers add their own bits, and the egg sacks, which need the heat, produce some as well. Part of why egg mines do so well, is because with the miners boxing up the entrance, heat and humidity retention is much greater.

Amazing what you can learn from five minutes talking with someone on the job. All of that said and done, the mine can look like literally any other cave in the world, save that there's egg sacks littered all over the place, pulsing with their own semi-disturbing life. They're like a cross between a plant, an animal, and a bird, and I find that somewhat disturbing, even if the eggs are reasonably tasty once they're harvested.

The Gnisis mine was halfway shutdown when I went in, so there were only workers in the upper levels, but they were helpful enough in answering questions about what had happened to Vabdas. I was eventually directed down into the lower parts of the mine, but they warned me that the Kwama Warriors would attack me if I got too close to them or the Queen, since I had an unfamiliar scent.

I took that under advisement, and headed deeper in.

((()))

The level where the Queen resides is considerably warmer, and humid to the point where an outright fog forms. It limits vision slightly, though in the enclosed spaces, it's generally more a matter of what you can see being blurred, rather than losing sight of something altogether. I poked around a bit, until I ran into a Legionary, who happened to be asleep. I made a mental note to find out who was in charge of watch rotation in the mine, and have the Orc dressed down over it, then moved further in.

The first passage I attempted lead to the Queen's chamber, so I retreated, and headed down one leading in the opposite direction, which quickly lead towards the sound of running water.

And then the shade of a dead Dunmer. I don't know a whole lot about ghost lore, but I'm pretty damn sure most don't form from accidental deaths, things like betrayal and murder are generally the cause. They also, unfortunately, tend to be pretty damn hostile.

"Do not fear," The spirit said, its sepulchral (known that word for a while, hadn't had a chance to use it) voice sending shivers down my spine, "I am not here for vengeance, please simply listen to my tale."

Well, that works too.

"You are the spirit of Mansilamat Vabdas?" I asked cautiously, keeping my hand on my blade.

"Yes," The spirit said, bowing its transparent head to me, its voice still disconcertingly otherworldly.

"Then your tale is exactly what I have come to hear," I said, "I've just come from speaking with your wife, and she needs to know what happened to you."

((()))

Twenty minutes later, I pulled a soaked corpse from a deep pool in the underground stream. Dunmer aren't of particularly heavy build, something I was glad of, since their denser flesh had made Mansilamat's body heavier than water even after it'd had time to soak for a while, and it's not easy dragging a corpse up to the surface. Hauling out the ax that had been stuck in his ribcage had been substantially easier.

I had reached the point where a low, steady rage burned in my chest, that place beyond mere anger, beyond simple rage, where stark fury dwelled.

"I really wished you hadn't found that," An Orcish voice called, and my head snapped up to stare over the body of Mansilamat at the speaker.

"YOU!" I Half-growled, half-screamed, lunging to my feet and dropping the corpse as I did so.

Lugrub gro-Ogdum, Mansilamat's murderer, recoiled, terror spreading across his face as he recognized me.

"MURDERER!" I snarled, storming forward and drawing my blade.

Lugrub's eyes widened even further, then he glanced at the body I'd hauled out of the water, and he fled.

For the second time in my life I lost control to rage, and my blood _burned_ with a Rage that only Redguards ever experience. Lugrub was one of the lazier legionaries, and he wouldn't have been able to outrun me while I was _out_ of the bloodrage, much less _in _it, and I ran him down like a lame dog.

The blow that should have severed his head from his shoulders was interrupted by something slamming into my right arm, breaking the bones in my forearm, and knocking the blade from my hand. Decades worth of swordsman reflexes pivoted me in place, and I snatched the blade out of the air with my left hand whipping around and slamming the blade into whatever had attacked me.

'Whatever' turned out to be a Kwama Warrior, five hundred pounds of chitin-armored muscle, claws, and bad attitude. My blade cut deep into the thing's flank, but it was too big to die to one blow into a non-critical area, I didn't even know if the things _had_ critical areas, and it thrust at me with its clawed forelimbs.

It was slow though, so very slow, and I was in the full grip of blood-fever; I floated around its claw, and severed the limb with another slash from my blade, then advanced further along that side to take advantage of its removed limb. A burning mass of magicka slammed into my back, but I forced myself to follow through on the blow anyways, slicing off the thing's squirming, unarmored head; it didn't kill it, but it did apparently blind the creature.

I danced to the side, narrowly evading a second blast of magicka, and turned to see another four Kwama Warriors facing me, two advancing on me with claws extended, the other pair hurling bolts of magicka. Part of me vaguely recognized that Lugrub had lead me into the Queen's chamber, but in the Rage, all I saw were the enemies that were laid out before me, and the threat they presented. The fact that I had taken off my armor to swim, that I didn't have my shield, and even if I did, one of my arms was broken, didn't even occur to me.

I attacked, and so did the Kwama. The first one attempted to engage me in an exchange of blows, I was a smaller target, faster, and in my Blood Rage, I was _stronger_ than it too. I swatted aside its claws with the hilt of my sword, then lunged straight in at its chest before it could recover, putting the full force of my body behind the blow, spearing straight through its carapace. It squealed as my blade skewered it, inciting the enraged predator's instinct in me all the more.

"RAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH!" I screamed back, before sinking my teeth into it's shoulder, hooking the elbow of my broken arm under the opposite side of its carapace, and using the three points of control to lift its flailing form over my head.

With their line of fire cleared, the two standing back to 'cast' hurled fresh spells at me, but rather than harming me, I simply absorbed the power behind them, energizing me further. The last of the quartet tried to rush me, but I slammed the first down onto him, crushing both of them with the strength of my magicka-empowered rage. Another pair of spells came my way, but these I simply ducked beneath, before leaping over the pair of corpses I'd just created, and rushing the surviving Kwama. After the last three, the remaining pair were _afraid_, I could _smell_ their fear, and their fear made them flinch, hesitate as they tried to attack me with their claws.

First I chopped off their arms, the first a little tricky with four of them trying to slash at me at once, but the other three were easy enough with less energy required for defense. Then I took their legs, followed by their heads, and when they kept thrashing, I screamed my rage at them, before stabbing my blade through what they had for necks, and thrashing it down in there until they laid still.

I smelled Lugrub before I heard him, I heard his terrified gibbering before I saw him, and when I turned towards him, he was a pathetic sight indeed. He'd soiled his armor, dropped his axe, and was frantically trying to claw his way through a stone wall to get away from me.

"_Murderer_," I snarled as I stalked around the squealing form of the Kwama queen, storming directly up towards him.

He gibbered some more, trying to say something, but I was too far gone to care. He raised his arms to defend himself, so I chopped those off, Daedric-forged Ebony tearing through light Imperial mail like it wasn't even there, before cutting off his head, and I screamed out my rage and victory.

((()))

Getting out of that mine was hard. I didn't realize it until after I came down from the blood rage, but I hadn't been as skilled in evading the Kwama Warriors attacks as I'd thought, I'd been slashed up along the left side of my torso, my right leg had been hit by a second spell, and something was bleeding atop my scalp. That was on top of the first spell that had struck my back, and the bones sticking out of my right arm.

Fortunately, along with removing my armor, my pouch of potion vials had been left at the water's edge, particularly the healing potions within. Forcing the bones in my arm back inside of the skin was Not Fun, but I had long since learned to put Need before Pain, and once aberrant healing was no longer an issue (even if the potions weren't up to healing the bones themselves), the potions sealed my wounds, preventing me from bleeding to death.

Thank you, Ajira.

((()))

Walking through a town carrying a corpse tends to draw attention, especially when you're covered in blood and have a visibly-broken arm. By the time I reached the Madach Tradehouse, there were somewhere around a hundred Dunmer trailing after me, and a couple legionaries starting to make their way through the crowd. Someone had apparently run ahead, because Darius met me just outside the Tradehouse's entrance.

"I sent you to talk with a widow," Darius growled, gesturing towards the corpse over my shoulder, "How did that turn into _this?_"

"Widow Vabdas told me her husband was murdered," I said tersely, before rolling the body forward off of my shoulder, so that it landed face-up between Darius and myself, the large chest wound on display.

"Mansilamat," I said flatly, before unslinging my pack and pulling out a bloody wrapped bundle, "Lugrub gro-Ogdum."

Tugging on the cloth allowed the severed head within to drop wetly to the ground beside Mansilamat's corpse.

"Lugrub's axe," I finished, pulling the damaged axe out of my pack, and laying it carefully on Mansilamat's chest, the blade directly beside the wound it had inflicted.

Darius crouched down, and deftly inserted the tip of the axe-blade into the wound, before withdrawing it and dropping it.

"Doesn't take an Archmage to figure out what happened to him," Darius growled as he stood back up, blazing eyes focusing on me with a furious intensity, "So tell me, Hawker, what happened to _you_."

"I talked with Mansilamat's widow," I growled, "She claimed her husband was murdered, so I went to investigate. Nobody had seen the body, nobody could tell me where the body was, so I kept hunting through the mine until I ended up down underneath the Queen's chambers. This piece of Guar Shit-"

I kicked Lugrub's head.

"-Was posted outside of the Queen's chamber, and he was asleep at his post. When I got down to the watercourse beneath, I found three things. Lugrub's axe, Mansilamat's body, and Mansilamat's _ghost_."

A murmur ran through the crowd of onlookers; I wasn't the most culturally aware, but even _I_ knew that spirits of the dead were a big deal to Dunmer.

"Mansilamat," I continued grimly, "Told me about how he snuck into the mine to retrieve Kwama eggs for his family, and slipped past Lugrub while the fetcher was asleep at his post. When he tried to head back out, Lugrub was awake, and _killed_ him in order to keep anyone from finding out he'd been sleeping while on watch."

I paused for a moment, my jaw working as I struggled with my anger; Darius waited for me to continue, keeping his gaze locked on my eyes.

"He'd woken up when I came back up with the body," I continued shortly, "He threatened me, I killed him."

"Lugrub couldn't have wounded you badly enough to break your arm," Darius said sharply, "And unless I miss my guess, some of that blood is yours, the cuts in your shirt and the way your broken arm is resting tells me that you've been at the potions. What else happened?"

I grimaced; I don't like admitting I'd gotten myself into a stupid situation, _especially_ in front of someone like Darius, whose martial ability I actually respected. Still, there was no point in trying to hide the truth, the next group to head down into the mind would figure it out pretty easily when they found the bodies.

"Lugrub wasn't a complete idiot," I ground out, "He ran into the Queen's chamber, and I was too far into the blood rage to realize until a group of Kwama Warriors attacked me. I had to fight through the lot of them in order to get at Lugrub, and they were much more difficult opponents than he was on their own, combined, they were a real bitch."

Darius looked me up and down again, slowly walking around me as he did so, and when he finished, he looked me in the eyes again.

"Is there anything else of urgence?" He asked.

I thought for a moment, then shook my head.

"Then head down to my quarters and get off your feet," Darius said, laying a hand on my shoulder, "You've been through enough for the day, Trooper, I'll deal with the rest of this."

I nodded gratefully, then headed into the Tradehouse, giving Lugrub's head one more kick on my way past.

((()))

29 Heart Fire, 427, 3rd Era.

I don't know what Darius said to the crowd that had gathered, but I do know that the next day, there was a mass funeral for Mansilamat Vabdas, and a traitor's 'burial' for Lugrub; his corpse was fed to slaughterfish.

Darius also had a lot of words for me personally, after he had a healer (who he'd personally paid for) take care of my broken arm. He had me go over in detail, step by step, my conversation with the widow, my expedition into the mine, who I talked with, what they told me, when I passed Lugrub while he was sleeping, Mansilamat's ghost, recovering the body and the axe, my fight immediately thereafter, _everything_. Once he had walked me through all of that, he asked me what I did wrong, a question I both hadn't expected, and wasn't accustomed to hearing.

Things got kind of awkward after that; he _was_ my superior officer, he _had_ treated me well since I'd joined the Deathshead Legion, but my pride still grated at being put on the spot like that. After a couple of minutes of attempting (and failing) to answer to his satisfaction, he told me what he was looking for himself.

I'd gone into the mine alone. I'm a member of the Imperial Legion; he says I need to start thinking of myself as part of a team, or I'll get myself killed.

I thought about it for a few minutes, then asked him to start teaching me his combat style. I may be hard-headed, but after losing the fight to him when I enlisted (I don't count technical wins), and nearly being killed by the Kwama, I found myself desiring to learn more than just better ways to beat people with a sword.

There was a strange look in his eyes when he agreed, and he seemed happy about it. _Too_ happy.

((()))

It's a bit out of order, but I should include some kind of description of the funeral here, if for no other reason than that the behavior of Mansilamat's widow is something that will stay with me for the rest of my life. 'Behavior' isn't quite right; _grief_ would be more accurate. I actually went and spoke with some of the clerics at the Tribunal Temple in town to find more words to describe this accurately; they're a lot friendlier since I caught a murderer for the town.

Vabdas wept. She cried, she wailed, she bawled, she moaned, she sobbed, she screamed, she thrashed, she groaned; I have literally never in my life seen someone display so much raw emotion, or work themselves into such an exhausted state outside of battle. And through it all, she desperately clung to the corpse of her husband, a man that I'd never met while living, who'd had the sheer force of will and self-discipline to not only linger on in spirit after his death, but to avoid becoming a violent wraith like the vast majority of the rare few who accomplish such, instead speaking with me in reasoned, if haunting, tones.

Redguard culture doesn't hold a whole lot of respect for a man who isn't a warrior, even if not professionally, but for the first time in my life, I found myself developing a deep respect for someone who'd essentially never wielded a weapon in his life.

The irony that it was a dead man who'd affected me so, was not lost on me.

((()))

"Part of leadership," Darius said gravely as we approached the barracks, him with a box under his arm, "Is that _leading_ means being in front. Not always literally, but very much so metaphysically. Today, I'm going to show you one way that it's done."

So saying, he led me into the barracks, where apparently, he'd already called a meeting amongst the Legionaries; a couple hundred of them were crammed into the central open space/corridor of the barracks, with a score or two more clustered around the various doors into it.

"This," Darius said, dropping the metal box he'd been carrying, "Is a donation box, something that some of you might have heard of, if you're well read."

Left unspoken was the fact that 'well-read' described maybe one in ten members of the Deathshead Legion. _Including_ the Officers.

"The purpose of this slot," Darius continued, indicating a narrow slot cut into the middle of the box's top, "Is to have money stuck through it. Lugrub was a member of _our_ legion, and it was _our_ responsibility to prevent this kind of unconscionable act from being carried out."

Darius paused, and pulled a small pouch from his belt, then began emptying coins into the slot, coins clinking and rattling as they struck the bottom of the box, and then each other.

"As the commander of this Legion," Darius said grimly, "_I_ bear responsibility, first and foremost, for the conduct of _all_ legionaries. For my part in this catastrophe, I am placing five hundred Septims in the box."

I took a deep breath; that was five times a Legionary's weekly pay, and probably Darius' entire pay for the week, though I didn't know what his personal wealth was like, or whether it was a particularly meaningful loss to him.

"Every week, the contents of this box will go to widow Vabdas. _Don't_ let her and her children go hungry."

I ended up putting my own Legion pay in the box; I hardly needed it with the money I'd gotten for selling off the Dark Brotherhood armor.

((()))

With her husband avenged, Vabdas was willing to sell us most of the land; specifically, enough to build the new military dock (according to Darius, the correct term is Shipyard, since it'll be used to construct ships). This should actually work out pretty well for her, since it means her house will be just off of a military base, and from the look of things, the legionaries are taking the care of the Vabdas family _very_ seriously.

((()))

1 Frost Fall, 427, 3rd Era.

Finally ready to start teaching some of the Legionaries more intense swordplay. About a quarter of them have managed to get to the level of physical fitness I required to teach them to fight like a Redguard; it'll be interesting to see how many can handle it.

Also, I've been promoted to Trooper, partially in recognition of what I did with the Vabdas case, partially because I'm going to need more 'legitimate' authority to throw around for the more intense training...

((()))

_Editor's Note: Lord Nerevar's 'fight like a Redguard' statement is rather misleading. It would be more accurate to say that he taught the men and mer of the Deathshead Legion to 'fight as though they were an army unto themselves.' His standards were, and _are_, very intense to those who wish to remain under his tutelage, and of fifty-some known students of his (in swordplay), forty-three spent the remainder of their lives serving in the Royal Guard, five became ranking members of the Royal Army, and one became a General within the Imperial Legion._

((()))

8 Frost Fall, 427, 3rd Era.

Down to two dozen recruits; Orc warriors might like to talk tough, but they're a bunch of wusses once you strap the weights to their ankles and wrists and start beating on them with a wooden sword. They act like we're already on the stage where they don't get to rely on their armor for defense.

Also, _I'm_ starting to get a little worn out. Training the Legionaries is more than enough daily workout and training in and of itself; working with Darius during the evenings on top of that is _exhausting_. If I didn't have Ajira's recipes for potions that restore stamina, I'd have dropped by now.

((()))

12 Frost Fall, 427, 3rd Era.

They finally finished sorting out the issues at the Kwama Mine; turns out the Queen had been infected with a Blight. Fortunately, Hetman Abelmawia, Councilor Hlaren Ramoran's appointed representative in Gnisis, is skilled in dealing with Blight diseases, so the whole affair was fairly easily dealt with. After our daily sparring match, Darius mentioned that the fact that the Queen's guards had been wiped out recently made treating it much easier.

((()))

15 Frost Fall, 427, 3rd Era.

Down to nineteen recruits; in fairness, any who've gotten this far will probably be among the best swordsman in the Deathshead legion for the rest of their lives. Tomorrow, the armor comes off and we start the harshest part of the training I have planned.

((()))

20 Frost Fall, 427, 3rd Era.

One of the Dark Brotherhood Assassins found me. It's probably about time I reported to Caius again anyways, even if I haven't received any further orders from him. I'm going to request leave and visit Balmora.

Down to twelve recruits who are willing to _try_ to keep up at this point, and less than ten who _are_ keeping up; they'd better not slack while I'm gone.

((()))

22 Frost Fall, 427, 3rd Era.

Ajira was..._ excited_ to see me. I took the Silt Strider down to Ald'ruhn, then the Mage's Guild Teleportation Service to Balmora, and I hadn't realized that the arrival platform being in the same area as Ajira's workshop was going to be particularly relevant. Apparently, I was wrong. A hundred and some pounds of Khajiit landing on my back kind of wrong; it was a good thing that I saw it was her, or I might have run her through.

"Biiiilll!" She half-purred as she nuzzled the back of my neck, "Ajira missed you!"

"...So I see," I said, more than a little shocked by her behavior as I pulled myself back to my feet, a process not made any easier by the fact that Ajira was still hanging off of my back, "I'd say it's good to see you, but I _can't_ see you."

Ajira rumbled out a purring laugh, which vibrated through my armor into my own chest, and I couldn't help but smile myself for it. She squeezed me one more time, before dismounting, and scurrying around to my side, seizing my hand, and dragging me off towards her work-space.

"Ajira will show Bill what she has been working on lately!" Ajira squeaked out happily, "Very good potions, Ajira will even show Bill how to make them!"

Well, I suppose meeting with Caius can wait a _few_ more hours.

((()))

I honestly don't know what to make of Ajira. I have never in my entire life had someone so happy to see me, to show me what they were working on, or anything like that. I've had a few lasses look my way with 'that' in their eyes, but that wasn't the kind of look Ajira was giving me.

It made something inside of me squirm uncomfortably, and provoked an unsettling train of thought I don't fully understand, that involved memories of Widow Vabdas at her husband's funeral.

((()))

23 Frost Fall, 427, 3rd Era.

Caius told me to head back up to Gnisis; he wants me to keep looking into the happenings in the area. He has some of the Blades in Cyrodil trying to find out why the Dark Brotherhood has a contract on me, but there's little he can do here in Morrowind, as they have no known operatives or base of operations here. He says he's started looking into the Morag Tong, who fulfill a similar, but _legal_ function in Vvardenfell, but hasn't found anything yet.

He actually offered to send another operative up to watch my back, but I could tell it was an operative he couldn't really afford to pull from other duties, and besides, the Dark Brotherhood hasn't actually sent anyone I can't handle.

Yet.

((()))

29 Frost Fall, 427, 3rd Era.

The recruits haven't slacked while I was gone, and now it's down to nine still training with me; Darius has assigned me to setting some of my trainees over the others to maintain a higher overall level of skill and discipline though.

The nine who've stuck it out to the end: Asha-Ammu Kutebani, Dul Gro-dush, Molvirian Palenix, Ughash gro-Batul, Optio Bologra, Oritius Maro, Bagamul gro-Dumul, Sharkub gro-Khashnar, and Ertius Fulbenus.

All of them are competent swordsmen at this point; any two have fifty-fifty odds of beating me in a spar.

((()))

12 Sun's Dusk, 427, 3rd Era.

Once I finally had the legionaries who progressed to a somewhat reasonable level of skill organized into maintaining practice and discipline, I had more time on my hands again. Once Darius joined me and the other nine in our sparring, rather than practicing with me at the end of the day, things became considerably more intense. By this point, I've picked up the conceptual basis behind Darius' personal style, and I have to say, the man takes the Redguard philosophy, and goes a step beyond.

Redguard combat philosophy reduced more or less to 'use any weapon in any way'; Darius' philosophy reduces to 'you _are_ a weapon, and _all_ of your capabilities may aid you in battle.' Not the best summary, but it's largely accurate. Darius uses knives, swords, fists, feet, knees, elbows, body-checks, staves, _anything_ that will help him in battle. He's also at least marginally competent with axes, spears, warhammers, bows, and sundry other weapons, but he's told me directly that he focuses on weapons that he can readily carry with his standard armor and equipment (he includes his Legion-issued sword as 'part of his equipment').

At this point, I'm fairly sure he's also trying to tell-me-without-telling me, that how he prepares and organizes his legion, how he motivates his troopers, how he relates to the local population, all of it ties in to his battle readiness as well, but I haven't worked that part out yet.

Odd note; Darius informed us that the Deathshead legion now goes through more wooden training swords in a month than the entire rest of the Legion in all of Morrowind. I'm rather proud of that accomplishment, personally.

((()))

18 Sun's Dusk, 427, 3rd Era.

I've actually been pushed to the point where I needed to take a day off from all of the training. I spent the day checking up on the other training groups, and correcting some of their sloppy movements, but mostly I just rested. The nine are coming alone well, and as I write this I suddenly realize someone might take that as a reference to the 'Nine Divines.'

Certainly not intentional, but if these nine fight together as a squad on a battlefield, I can bet you that their opponents will be thinking they're facing the nine divines.

((()))

_Editor's Note: When asked about the prior entry, Lord Nerevar mentioned that in his own mind, the specific mention of a battlefield was quite important. On a battlefield, the men he trained would be expected to face common soldiers, with unexceptional equipment, and at the best, high levels of skill. Against more elite foes, such as a group of Knights or a King's Guard, things would be, as Lord Nerevar put it, 'different.'_

((()))

25 Sun's Dusk, 427, 3rd Era.

Darius asked me to go find out what happened to Ragash gra-Shuzgub, who was sent to collect taxes from the Telvanni Archmage that lives in the old Velothi stronghold on the edge of town. This could be very easy, or very hard; we'll soon see.

((()))

Baladas Demnevanni had some... _interesting_ things to say about paying taxes:

"I was here before Gnisis, before this Empire of Men. The people of Gnisis live only because I tolerate them, and I will still be here long after Gnisis and this short-lived Empire are gone. Why should I pay tribute to them?"

The scary thing, is I _believed_ him. When he spoke, I could literally _feel_ myself being energized by the power rolling off of him; it was nothing like absorbing a real spell, but there was still a _tangible_ amount of power rolling off of him. It was my first time meeting a Telvanni Archmage, and I have to say, I _am_ impressed.

Fortunately, he just threw Ragash in prison, and was willing to release her after I promised she wouldn't come back to annoy him again.

((()))

Turns out Darius was using the whole thing as a test, to see whether or not I'd do something stupid to try to deal with Demnevanni. 'Stupid' being getting into a fight with an Archmage thousands of years old, in the middle of his personal sanctum. Getting outside alive means I passed, getting Ragash out (who sounds like a simpleton, though I'm not sure if that's linguistic issues or what), means I passed with flying colors. I've been promoted to Bannerman, which means I officially outrank all but three other members of Deathshead Legion, and Darius himself. He is _hard up_ for good officer material.

((()))

_Editor's Note: The structure of rank within the Imperial Legions has changed from one ruler or Imperial Commander's tenure to the other, but at the time of Lord Nerevar's (brief) service in the Legion's lower ranks, the ranks were structured as follows:_

_Inferior Ranks:_

_Recruit._

_Spearman._

_Trooper. (Highest rank a legionary may expect to advance to without displaying exceptional qualities._

_Superior Ranks: Any of these ranks may require a salute from those of Inferior Rank, and all but Champion are considered Officers._

_Champion or Bannerman. Both ranks are technically held as equal, but a Champion will not be given a command; Champion is a rank granted for heroic deeds coupled with high skill, Bannerman is granted for leadership skills and quality. It is possible to possess both ranks simultaneously._

_Knight Errant. All officers of rank above Knight Errant must earn entrance into one of the Imperial knightly orders, or be granted leave from the Emperor to found their own._

_Knight Bachelor._

_Knight Protector. This is the customary rank of a General commanding a Legion. Notably, 'General' was a term exclusively applied to those in command of a Legion at the time._

_Knight of the Garland. All Imperial Officers of this rank will command either a Legion directly, or a number of Legions through subordinates._

_Knight of the Imperial Dragon. This rank may only be granted by the Emperor directly. It is the only rank with such a distinction, and while it is not unheard of for certain bearers of this rank to have gained it via political appointment, all men or mer who have historically received it by such a means were still at least of some competence in affairs both of command and personal martial skill._

_Notably, elevation to a Superior Rank, after holding Inferior Ranks for just months, is quite remarkable._

((()))

26 Sun's Dusk, 427, 3rd Era.

Well, my first assignment as a brand-spanking new officer is to go on an extended patrol up through the West Gash region. Darius is overseeing the final stages of dock construction, as well as bringing in lumber and shipwrights to build a better-quality patrol vessel with which to handle naval patrols, and he said it's time for me to bust my chops on my first assignment away from direct oversight. Provisions for a long patrol, as well as a Guar to haul them, should be arriving at the dock tomorrow.

I'll be taking half of the nine and seven others with me; Darius says that a twelve-man patrol is the best size he's found for dealing with trouble up here, and I'm inclined to believe him.

((()))

27 Sun's Dusk, 427, 3rd Era.

What. In. Oblivion.

Ajira is here. She arrived on the Silt Strider about an hour after the supplies for our extended patrol came in at the docks, and of course immediately spotted me. Somehow, I don't think that being tackled by an overly-friendly Khajiit is doing anything for my image of authority amongst the men during the upcoming patrol.

By Azura, now she's saying she wants to _come with._

((()))

I told Ajira that if she wanted to come with me, she'd have to clear it with my commanding officer, and sent her off to talk with Darius. I thought that would be the end of this silly notion of coming along with.

I was wrong.

Apparently, Darius thinks that having a mildly skilled mage along with, who has an _extensive_ personal stock of potions, as well as a Khajiit's nose for tracking, would be a _great_ idea.

From an adventurer's standpoint, I can agree; I just _dearly_ hope that Ajira doesn't get herself killed in the process. On with the long patrol...

((()))

_Editor's Note: The following records of Lord Nerevar's first patrol are a compilation from his personal journal, and the official log he kept during the course of the journey. When there is an entry from both on a given day, the official log will be displayed first, followed by the appropriate section of his personal journals._

((()))

28 Sun's Dusk, 427, 3rd Era.

Headed North out of Gnisis, ran into a couple of aggressive Kagouti; will be lots of meat for dinner tonight.

((()))

New discovery; apparently Ajira can _cook_. And cook _well_. Morale amongst the men has gone up considerably now that they know they'll have better eats on the road than they have at the barracks. They still won't stop teasing me about my 'clingy girlfriend' though.

((()))

29 Sun's Dusk, 427, 3rd Era.

Nothing of particular interest this day, aside from Ajira getting pissy with a rat. Several of the legionaries laughed, and ended up eating travel-rations rather than the stew Ajira made out of the rat at day's end.

((()))

30, Sun's Dusk, 427, 3rd Era.

Ajira tracked the scent of an odd mixed group of races to a well-concealed cave entrance today, and we discovered a group of smugglers-cum-slavers. They were wiped out with little trouble; only one of the Orcs had any real skill or decent equipment, and Oritius Maro took care of him while the rest of the men and myself worked through the lesser threats. Their Skooma stocks were destroyed, and Ajira was permitted to use the Moon Sugar they had been smuggling to make some speed-enhancing potions.

Standard dispensation of loot amongst the men has been implemented, though I had to adjudicate a few squabbles over the relative value of a particular item.

((()))

Damn slavers; they had a full half-dozen Argonians and Khajiit in their pen; the Orc guarding them had the key to their bracers though, so letting them loose wasn't difficult. I had to get a little 'creative' with interpretation of legion policy on loot in order to make them all understand that the slaves were _not_ loot, and thus would be going free, back down to Gnisis, rather than becoming property of one of the legionaries.

I have no idea why, but the smugglers had several barrels full of nothing but _pants_; between those and shirts or robes looted from the corpses, there was enough clothing for the freed beastfolk to be decent, if somewhat scruffy, when they reached Gnisis. Ajira and I gave over both our share of the gold-loot, and some of our own reserves, to pay for Silt Strider passage down to Ald'ruhn, where they'll meet up with one of Ajira's friends to either start building a new life, or find passage back to their homes.

((()))

31, Sun's Dusk, 427, 3rd Era.

Encountered a group of outlaws today, they fled rather than face a dozen legionaries and a mage. Ajira back-tracked their scents to the cave they'd been using as a hideout; we looted it, and I will leave a mark and description of its location on the map so that future patrols can watch for their return.

((()))

Ajira has been displaying a habit of taking cuttings from what seems to be every third plant (aside from the grass) that we pass ever since the patrol began. I finally asked her about it today, and she told me that it is the best way to be an Alchemist; any plant or animal part you recognize as having a use, is something that you should have as much as possible of, at least when it costs you only a moment's labor to get it.

She then proceeded to show me that she'd kept a few small strips of rat meat, which is apparently useful for creating cures to poisons.

((()))

1 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

Nothing of particular note this day, we made good time, and a Nix Hound provided the evening's meal courtesy of Ajira's cooking skill.

((()))

2 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

Another fairly idle day. I had the men spar for an hour while Ajira cooked today, Oritius took particular interest in fighting me one on one. His skills continue to sharpen, but he has yet to lay a blow on me when dueling.

((()))

3 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

We reached Ald Velothi today; a small fishing village on the North coast of Vvardenfell. Darius keeps a small group of legionaries posted at a watchtower in the village; the Bannerman in charge of the watch, Agrak gro-Shul, said that there has been some activity in the Daedric ruins a day's journey east of town, and that a Dunmer pilgrim by the name of Madura Seran has gone missing. I've agreed to take my patrol out to look for them tomorrow.

((()))

4 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

General Darius' point about working as a cohesive unit in combat has been _amply_ made. The Daedric ruins were _infested_ with cultists, and they attacked on sight. Worse, they had a number of summons; a Clannfear, some Scamps, and three Dremora. Dremora are tough S'wits; I've never been sure if the armor is something they wear, or part of their bodies, but either way, there's not much that your standard Imperial Broadsword can do to one, unless you can take them through the face with it.

Fortunately, both the cultists and the summons failed utterly to fight as a unit; we never had to face more than three cultists and two Daedra at a time; I had the spearmen keep the Dremora in place (one of them will need a new spear), while Oritius, Optio, Bagamul, and two of the legionaries who aren't direct students of mine any longer took on the cultists, and I moved against the Dremora with my Daedric Katana.

Optio was injured when one of the cultists went on a suicidal blitz, and would have died if Ajira hadn't been ready at hand with her potions, but that was the worst of the injuries we suffered. I've fought Dremora before, and with the spearmen supporting me, this one was no serious challenge, especially as I now possess a weapon capable of penetrating their armor.

We've cleared the surface and the first chambers of the shrine structure, though another door leads into a basement of sorts. I've posted a watch there, and we'll investigate the deeper parts tomorrow.

((()))

5 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

The last of the Daedric cultists, was _not_ an idiot. And he had a full suit of _Ebony_ armor, save the helmet. He waited until most of us were sleeping to attack; fortunately Bagamul was one of the two keeping watch on the entrance to the lower reaches of the shrine, and was able to hold the Dunmer cultist off until reinforcements could arrive, though the spearman standing guard with him, Marcus Fidelus, was killed.

I have never in my life seen a being, man or mer, more determined not to die. Once I joined the fight, the other legionaries not far behind, he retreated back underground, leading down into a cavernous chamber filled with the shattered ruins of some formerly-great structure. Within it a twisted maze of narrow stone pathways lead up and down the cavern's many levels, and the cultist used these narrow quarters to great effect. A number of the legionaries were, of course, carrying bows, but their simple weapons had no real effect on the Dunmer's armor, and they were not accurate enough to score a blow against his unarmored head.

He injured two more of my Legionaries during his fighting retreat, his Daedric Waraxe brutalizing their weapons swiftly, but I kept replacements at the ready, and he was not able to land killing blows. Eventually, after he had fatigued himself substantially, he was backed into a corner, and I faced him personally. As I had expected, he was at his most dangerous when he realized that he was not going to be able to escape, and made a suicidally aggressive attack. He'd failed to notice that my blade was not mere steel, however, and I was able to parry his suicidal lunge, an attempt I'm certain would have cost any other member of the patrol their blade, and possibly the limb that held it, then I decapitated him with my riposte.

Ajira saw to the wounded, though she was clearly disturbed by the presence of the dead legionary's corpse. We'd disposed of the dead cultists' bodies the night prior, but were weren't just going to throw a fellow legionary's corpse to the wild beasts. Distributing the loot will also be something of a problem; the Dremora from yesterday were carrying several Dwemer weapons (though I have no clue as to why), and the Ebony Armor and Daedric Waraxe are both worth tens of thousands of Septims. I've decided that they shall remain unclaimed until we return to Gnisis, and Darius will be asked to adjucate their disposition.

((()))

Ajira does not like dealing with death; she has 'snuck' into my bedroll tonight (still dressed, thank the Nine), and has fallen asleep clinging to me. It made finishing my log somewhat awkward, but in a way, it is heartening to see someone still innocent enough that a single death would affect her so. I do not begrudge her seeking solace in physical contact, though I've little doubt the men will heckle me about it tomorrow during our return to Ald Velothi.

((()))

6 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

The watch commander was happy to hear that the Daedric Cultists had been dealt with, though saddened by the death of Marcus Fidelus, and disappointed that we had not found Madura Seran. He has agreed to make arrangements for Fidelus' funeral tomorrow morning, which the patrol will attend before continuing onward.

((()))

Ajira has moved her own bedroll to beside mine. It is better than her moving herself beneath my own blankets I suppose, but she's clearly still disturbed by Marcus' death. I don't think she's ever seen someone she's broken bread with slain before. Hopefully this does not become a permanent issue.

((()))

7 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

We found Madura Seran today; a group of three outcast Ashlanders had taken her hostage, and attempted to demand six hundred Septims in ransom. They were dealt with in a manner befitting such criminals, and the booty from their camp was divided amongst the men while Ajira saw to Madura's health. I personally escorted her back to Ald Velothi through the night, granting her use of a couple of Ajira's stamina potions to ensure she could keep up with the stiff pace that I set, then used a potion myself to return to the camp and catch a couple hours of sleep before the patrol moved on.

We've already lost too much time as it is.

((()))

8 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

Nothing of particular interest today, save I had us march an extra half-hour to begin making up the time lost clearing the Daedric Ruins and assorted criminals we have encountered.

((()))

9 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

Another uneventful day on patrol.

((()))

Interestingly, essentially the entire coast West of Ald Velothi is warded by cliffs. If this geographical pattern continues, it'll lead to some interesting conclusions about both Ald Velothi, and Gnisis.

((()))

10 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

Another uneventful day on patrol. The Guar is beginning to fatigue due to the longer marches, and additional load of loot it is carrying; I shall have to cut things back to a more normal pace.

((()))

11 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

While there are some truly spectacular stone formations along the cliffs that face the sea, this is not sufficient to keep the men's morale from declining due to simple monotony. I almost hate to say it, but it would be best if something 'interesting' happen soon.

((()))

12 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

It is ultimately unsurprising, I suppose, that with the cliffs barring access to the ocean, no smugglers have taken up residence along this strip of land. Morale continues to gradually wane; I will simply try to be pleased with the lack of death in this length of the patrol.

((()))

13 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

In the distance, a Dwemer ruin has become visible; we should reach it by day's end. Hopefully, the change of pace will help morale amongst the men.

((()))

_Editor's Note: Unlike other paired entries in this section, both the preceding and succeeding entries are from the official log of Lord Nerevar's first patrol._

((()))

Now this is truly grand. There are many Dwemer ruins in Hammerfell, so I am hardly a stranger to such structures, but this one is far more intact than most. First, there are the pair of bridges that grant access to it, large constructs of stone and Dwemer yellow steel, which span hundreds of feet across two chasms. Second, there is the enormous statue which stands watch over the end of the second bridge, the fine detail of its features worn down by wind and rain, but the overall structure still strong. Third, is the siege weaponry that remains largely intact; this was clearly intended to serve as a fortress, and judging by its ability to survive this long without maintenance, it served _well_.

Finally, there is the location of the ruin itself, at the northwesternmost point of Vvardenfell. Technically, there is a small shelf at the base of the western cliff-face (a small campfire and two Dunmer, who seem to be fishermen, rest on said shelf), but the fortress itself clearly dominates the area. Further, the imposingly tall tower at the center of the ruin doubtless allows for an impressive range of vision, to keep watch for ships impinging upon the shores of Vvardenfell.

I fully intend to suggest taking possession of this facility to use as an observation post and waystation for patrols to Darius.

((()))

14 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

We made a brief exploration of the ruin's interior; but stopped after the first time we encountered a Dwemer Steam Centurion. There is a reason that the majority of Dwemer Ruins are unexplored, and that reason is the automatons that inhabit them. I have fought them before, but it is never an easy thing to defeat a foe whose entire body is constructed of metal; the Spider Centurions are not too difficult to destroy, but Centurion Spheres and the full up Centurions are incredibly durable, and their blows are driven with considerable force.

I had the men drag the Centurion's head out of the ruins, which should make it more difficult for the other automata to repair it, then we pressed on with our patrol.

((()))

15 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

Nothing of particular interest today; I've attempted to keep the men from falling into boredom by discussing the strategic relevance and tactical defense possibilities of the ruined fortress; it was at least somewhat effective.

((()))

16 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

We encountered a strange Dunmer today, by the name of Jiub. He was somewhat addled, and appeared to be obsessed with hunting and killing Cliff Racers. Given the creatures' aggressive nature, I can but wish him luck in his endeavor.

((()))

I honestly never expected to meet Jiub again, and certainly not in the unsettled corners of Vvardenfell. Not to mention the manner of our meeting...

A Cliff Racer attacked one of my legionaries; a foolish move at best, as with armor, shield, and blade, injuring any one of us was extremely unlikely at best, and with the rest of us on hand to render aid as soon as we crossed the short distance, it was essentially a suicidal attack. Cliff Racers are nothing more than beasts, however, so it is not wholly surprising. In this case, however, aiding the Trooper on point was not necessary, as a chitin-armored Dunmer intervened.

"YAAAAA!" Jiub screamed as he leapt from a concealed position in a tree alongside the road, "FOR THE LORD OF MILK!"

He was wielding an axe crafted of bone, but it was more than adequate for the purpose of sheering through the Cliff Racer's neck as it strafed the Trooper. Three _thumps_ sounded, as Jiub, the head, and then the body of the Cliff Racer all struck the ground.

"That was different," Oritius said, some bewilderment in his voice as he watched Jiub begin mutilating the corpse, "Do you suppose a Cliff Racer killed his family?"

"I'd say it's more likely he's a little addled," I said calmly, before moving towards Jiub, "I'll talk with him."

"Bill!" Ajira called from where she was lurking by the Guar, "See if Bill can get the Racer Plumes for Ajira, they are useful for Levitation Potions!"

I nodded, taking care as I approached Jiub; I'd never have expected this kind of violence of him, based on my past experience with him. He wasn't so intent on butchering the corpse that he didn't notice my approach, and I noted with some relief that he wasn't simply mutilating it, but was in fact stripping the meat from the corpse.

"Greetings-" I began, but Jiub immediately looked up, cutting me off.

"Bill!" He cried, a lopsided smile twisting onto his scarred face, "So they let you out too! It's good to see you again."

Jiub, why did you have to remember my name _this_ time?

((()))

Jiub didn't stay with us for long, just long enough to strip a meal's worth of meat from the cliffracer for himself, which he proceeded to eat raw. I gave him some of our travel rations in 'exchange' for the rest of his kill, out of worry for his health.

Unfortunately, he also said enough to make it clear to the men of the patrol that I had arrived in Morrowind some months prior with him, aboard a high-security prison ship. Dealing with this was rather difficult, and I've included the best record of what I did (and did not) say below in order to help me keep such things straight for future concerns. I dealt with the issue, to a greater or lesser extent, during dinner that night, and I think it was my first truly successful attempt at being clever with words.

((()))

"Yes," I replied, making no particular effort to hide my reluctance as I answered Oritius' question, "I arrived in Vvardenfell aboard a prison ship during the middle of Last Seed, Jiub and I being the only prisoners aboard."

"Must have been a pretty small ship," Orguk gro-Shub said with a snort.

"No," I said shaking my head, "It was a full-sized schooner, with a full crew. It only had two prisoners because one of them was _me_. You've all trained with me at this point, four of you still do. You _know_ how good I am with a sword, and some of you have seen me and the General going at each other."

_That_ brought down a silence amongst the legionaries, but not from Ajira, and I realized that as she'd followed my instructions to stay out of the combat areas during the patrol, she'd never actually seen me fight before.

"Ajira does not understand," The young Khajiit admitted, "Ajira knows that Bill is a skilled swordsman, but she does not understand why all the other Legionaries are acting this way."

"It's something all of us in the Deathshead Legion have understood for a long time," Oritius said, "Because of General Darius. He mostly keeps order in the legion through his personal reputation. You see," Oritius drew his sword, laid it flat across both of his hands, and offered it to Ajira, "A sword, by itself, isn't the best weapon on a battlefield. It's very versatile, you can use it to thrust, slash, parry, block, but it's not particularly good at any of them."

Ajira took the swords hesitantly, and began to cautiously swing it around, getting a feel for the heft of it.

"It's why the Legion uses spears and tower shields," Oritius continued, "They're excellent weapons for formation fighting, and when used in the correct formations, allow emphasis on the strength of spear-weapons, thrusting attacks from a distance. The tradeoff is that spears are pretty crappy at slashing, parrying, and blocking."

"Spears made from quality hardwood can be used for blocking," I interjected, "It's pretty expensive, and heavier, but some warriors learn how to use spears with a mixed style, like a staff, and are much more effective with blocking and parrying as a result."

"Didn't know that," Oritius said with a shrug, "But it's part of the same thing about swords. While they're only good as a backup weapon on the battlefield when in the hands of a common soldier, when you've got someone who is willing to put the time and sweat in to really _master_ the sword..."

"If the whole Legion rose up against Darius and his handful of officers," Bagamul said gruffly, "Considering that he only lets bows be issued to groups on patrol, he could probably kill half the Legion by himself before we took him down. With all the drunks and disobedient Legionaries he's been sent to deal with, I don't blame him for keeping the bows under lock and key."

"Our Bannerman here," Oritius said, indicating me with a jerk of his head, "Is on a level with the General, from what I heard, you beat him in a duel to start as a trainer, rather than with grunt footman duties. What all of this explains, is why a prison ship would have an entire complement of guards, just to deal with him. What it _doesn't_ explain," He turned to stare at me, "Is _why_ you were on that ship in the first place."

"I've mentioned it before," I said, thinking furiously about what things to say, and what things _not_ to say, "I used to be an adventurer in Hammerfell, and like any adventurer who lives past his first few tomb-raids and ruin-dives, I was part of a group; they'd been working together for a few years before they recruited me to round out their melee element."

I had to pause for a moment, and take a few deep breaths before continuing, anger rising in me once more.

"We took a job for a noble last year," I continued harshly, "Fairly straightforward, break up a group of bandits, rescue a girl they'd kidnapped, the Count's cousin, according to what we were told, and bring her back to him safe and sound," I paused for a moment, my clenched fists trembling with anger, "The shite lied to us."

"When we showed up at the Count's castle, he had his entire house guard waiting for us, as well as a number of mercenary mages. They attacked from the wall-top as soon as we reached the gate, no warning, no nothing, and we were all tired from fighting the bandits and the subsequent journey. They killed everyone but me and the girl, and they _thought,_" I snarled that word out, "That I was dead too."

My chest was heaving with barely-controlled rage at that point, and it was all I could do to keep myself from shouting it all out.

"They took the girl," I ground out, "And threw our bodies into a mass grave. Unfortunately for them, they threw my mostly-broken body on top of the body of our healer, and I was able to get at his potion stash. If any of you have never felt it, it's a _bitch_ having your bones healed by a potion, not to mention organs, muscles, and lips. It took almost an hour for the potions to finish working on me, and then I had to dig myself out of the grave."

I lurched to my feet, no longer able to contain all of my anger, and started stalking around the fire.

"The S'wit were having a damn _victory feast_," I snarled, my right hand spastically clasping and unclasping over the hilt of my sword, "And by the time I got into their banquet hall, most of them were shit-faced drunk. My armor was still covered with the blood and guts of my friends, and they were beyond shocked to see me, I'm pretty sure some of them thought I was a ghost."

I snarled, and turned to glare at Oritius.

"I diabused them of _THAT_ damn notion," I shouted, "I didn't have a Daedric weapon back then, but the enchanted Silver longsword I was using was _more_ than up to the task of carving through those Fetcher's necks. There were three tables, two running the length of the hall, and one at the far end, where the Count's family was feasting, though he was absent. I started working my way up the table on the right, and carved my way through a dozen of them before anyone managed to put up a fight.

"The guards were _pathetic_;" I sneered, beginning to stalk around the fire again, "There was a _reason_ that they'd hired us to do the job, and I butchered them like the N'wah they were. It only took a few minutes for the hall to empty out, and I started hunting for the Count, killing any armed man or woman I came across. When I found the Count, he was locked in his private quarters, raping the girl we rescued. He hadn't even realized his castle was under attack until I kicked in the door, and the shit was in no condition to fight, especially after I chopped his thing off; I gave the girl my knife, and let her finish him."

I stopped pacing, and took a deep breath before finishing.

"If she hadn't been so pissed," I continued flatly, "She probably would have killed him _slow_, I could see that feral instinct in her eye. She killed him slow enough as it was; I would have just chopped his head off, but she just started stabbing him in the chest, again and again, and didn't stop until I dragged her off of the corpse."

Carefully controlling my breathing, every muscle in my body tense as I trembled with anger, I laid out the remaining part of my story which I could afford to tell the men.

"Some of the runners went to get the Guard from Elinhir, and fed them a pack of lies. When the Guard showed up, with mage support, they captured me, and I was charged with _murdering_ the lot of treacherous bastards. I don't know how much the Count's family bribed the Guard, but they absolutely refused to look for the grave of my comrades, and I suspect that by the time the Legion took control of things, they'd been more carefully disposed of."

I sat down again, forcing myself to gradually calm down; I dearly would have liked to bury all the emotion in a bottle of Greef, but it was hardly something I could do from my position as patrol leader, even if it would give me an easy out from answering any further questions from Oritius or the other men.

A painful, pregnant silence passed for some time around the campfire; unsurprisingly, Oritius was the first to work up the courage to speak.

"That'd certainly explain why you were imprisoned," Oritius said with a nod, "Why did you end up in the Deathshead Legion though?"

"You even need to ask?" I said with a snort, "Conflicting reports between the Count's family and the Duke's daughter meant they couldn't just execute me, open and shut, so I was sent off to Imperial prison while they sorted it all out. I never saw a trial, but apparently they decided to make use of me, and do you think it's a coincidence that I ended up in Darius' legion, between it taking in all the trouble cases, and Darius being better than me in a fight?"

Nobody said anything else about it the rest of the night, and that was the end of it.

((()))

17 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

A largely uneventful day. Aside from some conversation amongst the men that came in consequence of our encounter with Jiub yesterday, little of interest happened.

((()))

Ajira spoke with me today in private; a part of me was afraid that she would wish to separate herself from the patrol, due to fear of my bloody deeds, but instead she appeared to feel the need for extensive cuddling. I am not terribly familiar with Khajiit social customs, and this behavior has confused me quite a bit. It was nice though, if a bit awkward.

((()))

19 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

A few diseased rats were the only notable encounter of the day; Ajira administered a few cure potions as a preventative measure.

((()))

20 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

We encountered another Smuggler's Den today; it was rather substantially infested. A dozen and a half smugglers, mostly Dunmer, but a few Redguards and Imperials as well, were smuggling Skooma, Moon Sugar, Soul Gems, and again, a strangely large quantity of simple pants. There were no slaves this time, something I am both thankful and frustrated by; I would not wish captivity on any, but for those who have been so forced, I would rather find them where I may legally free them.

We turn East tomorrow, for the final leg of the patrol and our return to Gnisis.

((()))

Ajira stuck more closely with me during the clearing of the smuggler's cave; she insisted it was not because she felt unsafe without me around, yet she would not tell me why then she stuck so close to me. I am again confused; perhaps Caius will be able to explain something of Khajiit social customs to me next time I am in Balmora?

((()))

21 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

Nothing of particular note this day.

((()))

22 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

Another uneventful day.

((()))

23 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

Apart from some gorgeous scenery, nothing exceptional today.

((()))

24 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

We reached Gnisis today, and I shall be turning this log of our patrol in to Darius forthwith.

((()))

_Editor's Note: Entries from this point are again exclusively from Lord Nerevar's personal journal._

((()))

24 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

As we came within sight of Gnisis today, Oritius spoke with me briefly, requesting that I meet him in one of the storage rooms of the legion barracks tomorrow morning, before reveille. As I had no particular reason not to, I agreed, though mentioned I would only have so much time before it became necessary for me to see Ajira off when the Silt Strider departed for Ald'ruhn.

((()))

25 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

Today has been an absolutely unmitigated disaster. I had thought nothing exceptional of Oritius request to meet with him, but I could not have been more wrong; I will detail the course of our meeting below.

((()))

"Thank you for coming sir," Oritius said, greeting me with a respectful nod as I stepped into the storeroom.

"No need for 'sir' when we're not on duty," I said, waving my hand dismissively, "Besides, with your skills, you'll be an officer before long too yourself."

Oritius laughed at that, a bright, open thing of good humor.

"I wish I shared your optimism, Bill," He said, shaking his head, "But I'm quite certain that if Darius meant to promote me past Trooper, he would have done so already."

"Things change," I said with a shrug, "You've learned more than just swordplay in your training with me, or at least demonstrated it, and willingness to persevere is essential to excelling in _any_ task. Darius needs officers _badly._"

"I hope you're right," Oritius said with a shrug, "But it's not what I asked you here to speak of today. Are you familiar with the Talos Cult?"

"Aside from the fact that they're particularly dedicated to worshiping Talos," I replied with a shrug of my own, "Not really."

"Well," Oritius said, his tone and expression becoming more serious, "There is a small secretive chapter of the Cult here in Gnisis, of which I am the leader. I would like to invite you to join."

His offer caught me completely off guard; I'd had absolutely no expectation of such a thing, and judging by his response, my confusion showed on my face.

"I'm not inviting you because you seem to me like a man particularly prone to piety," He continued, "But because our chapter has a particular cause driving it; a dissatisfaction with the leadership of corrupt nobles, and a desire to change that; a desire I'm quite certain you share."

"The only noble I met who wasn't malignant," I admitted, "Was a crazy Breton who wanted me to track down the bandit who'd just robbed her, because she'd fallen in love with him. I had to go hunting for her after _she_ went out looking for him in the wilds. I don't know if Darius is actually a noble or not, but if he is, he's the only one I've met who wasn't useless."

"Corrupt nobility is the single greatest threat plaguing the Empire today," Oritius said, nodding gravely, "I desire to see this problem solved, because it maddens me, seeing them tear apart the Empire Talos created, and I know you wish to see this problem solved due to your own experiences with nobility. In this, I believe us to be kindred spirits."

"That much is true," I said, matching his nod, "So why do you wish me to join you?"

"Come with me," He said, putting his shoulder to a wooden crate and forcing it aside, revealing a trapdoor, "And I will show you."

((()))

He led me to a small, somewhat cramped basement shrine; it looked like it had been built in an old secret storage or escape hole, and it was fairly simple, all told. It put me in mind of the many less-spacious caves and tombs I'd adventured through, particularly as Vvardenfell seemed oddly predisposed towards broad tunnels and spacious caverns; perhaps an artifact of lava flows from Red Mountain?

Regardless, once in the small 'chapel,' Oritius introduced me to a half-dozen other cult members; I knew all their faces, as I'd trained them all at some point or another, but only one, Lucius Atellus, had made it even to the final round of eliminations before I was left with just nine students, and I didn't remember any of the rest of their names.

They spoke to me of their desires, why they'd joined the Talos Cult, why they held a common cause with Oritius in attempting to tear the corrupt nobility out of the Empire's power structure, we spoke for a good half hour, and it was very informative.

Unfortunately, their ultimate goal was utterly anathema to me: They were plotting to assassinate the Emperor. The sheer audacity of it caught me off guard; they were a collection of inferior-ranked common Legionaries, posted into the absolute backwater of the Empire's least-favored and least-hospitable province, I'd had no idea why they'd decided to pursue such a thing. As they began to explain things, however, it gradually became clear to me that it was _not_ simply a pipe dream from a bunch of dissatisfied grunts with too much time on their hands.

At least, not anymore.

The Emperor himself would be visiting Morrowind in two months times, to meet with the new King of the province, Helseth Hlaalu. While he was in the province, he was scheduled to visit Ebonheart, as it was the seat of power on Vvardenfell, and all Legion Commanders were to present themselves to report on the state of the sub-province to the Emperor personally. Oritius had served in Ebonheart for a time, and had a contact there who knew of a secret passage into Ebonheart, which would allow them to bypass the lion's share of the Emperor's Guard.

Six months ago, attempting such still would have been folly, but now, with the added skill the men, especially Oritius himself, possessed, they presented a very real threat, one which could not just be ignored.

_Dammit_.

"This plan could actually work," I told Oritius, once he was finished trying to convince me to join in, "There's only one problem."

I exhaled sharply, slipped my fingers between my breastplate and my chest, and fished out a slip of paper I'd kept on my person ever since the day I'd first read it; the note written for me by, and marked with the personal seal of, Uriel Septim the seventh. Once I'd handed it over to him, I slowly backed my way into a corner of the small shrine, and waited for him to realize just what he held in his hands.

"What is this?" Oritius eventually said, completely bewildered as he looked up at me, "And why does it have the Emperor's personal seal on it?"

"You listened to my story the night after we met Jiub," I said, "And what I told you of my life in Hammerfell is true. What you did not think to ask, was _who_ arranged my release in Vvardenfell."

Anger began to build in Oritius eyes as he realized what I was saying, and he threw the slip of paper to the ground, and drew his sword.

"The Emperor personally ordered my release," I said sadly as I drew my own Daedric blade, "I like you, Oritius, and I think your point about the nobility by and large is right. But the Emperor himself, _he_ has earned my trust at least enough to not allow this plot to be carried out. Turn aside from this path, and we can accomplish many other good works; I'm the only member of the Blades who knows about the plot, and if you cast it aside for a more worthy plan, no one ever need know."

While I spoke, the rest of the cult members drew their swords, and to my great regret, they answered my request with steel, rather than words.

((()))

31 Evening Star, 427, 3rd Era.

I woke up almost a week later in a room I did not recognize, and Ajira was sleeping on a chair beside my bed. Oritius was good with his sword, he knew he was fighting for his life, the life of the other cultists, and any chance his plan had to succeed. He and the other five had fought with excellent coordination, like the Legionaries they were; I had fought like the cornered Adventurer I was, taking advantage of the cramped quarters to keep them from ganging up on me, and _ruthless_ advantage of how much better my blade was than theirs.

They'd died; I'd thought I was going to die, though apparently someone found me in that storeroom before I bled out. I don't intend to honor a group of traitors, especially one given a more-than-reasonable chance at casting aside their attempt at treason, the dignity of fully describing what skill they did or did not display in their final fight.

I tried not to wake Ajira when I sat up, but her keen ears perked up almost the instant I moved, and she was awake a moment later, staring at me with watery eyes.

"William Hawker is a stupid human who makes Ajira worry about him, and she will not be letting him out of her sight again!" She declared ferociously, before launching herself at me, latching onto my shoulders (which let me know that I was _not_ fully healed yet), and began bawling into my hairy chest.

I mostly just lay there, cataloging the aches and pains that Ajira slamming into me had woken up; it felt like my Liver wasn't fully healed yet, and my ribs ached (though that may have just been the result of Khajiit-compression), but while the places I'd been wounded on my limbs tingled, none of them actually _hurt_ any more. I _had_ been told that muscles were easier to heal than organs.

After a few minutes, the door opened, and _Caius_ walked in, Darius moving in right behind him.

"Good to see you finally awake Bill," Caius said, the first time I could remember him actually addressing me by my first name, "I'd been afraid this little test would be the end of you."

"_Test?_" I half-asked, half said, more than a little bewildered, both by Caius' presence, and his words.

"Yes," Caius said, nodding gravely, "While the mission I gave you was real, and the need to uncover what was happening up here legitimate, you also had another Blade assigned to trail you, and see just what you would do," He raised a hand when I opened my mouth, "Don't bother asking who, their identity will remain a secret from you for the forseeable future. More importantly, is how you _handled_ the test."

Ajira had stopped crying into my chest by that point, and turned her head to glare up at Caius murderously.

"Ajira is thinking stupid Skooma-man can take his testd and smoke _them_ in his Skooma pipe," She growled.

"Mayhaps I will," Caius said, grinning like I'd never seen from him, before turning to me and putting on a more serious countenance again, "I'll be blunt Bill, your intelligence-gathering and general subterfuge skills are a _joke_. You literally _stumbled_ across the plot, and it didn't even occur to you that you could have been more proactive about looking."

He paused for a moment, leveling that nigh-overwhelming gaze of his at me again.

"More importantly though," He continued, letting up on the pressure, "Is that you carried out your orders, and when the moment of critical decision came, you displayed _integrity_. You showed that you are worthy of _Trust_. Because of that, and the fact that we need you out of here before the forthcoming retinue of the Emperor's personal guard arrives in Gnisis to investigate the plot in particular and the Deathshead Legion in general, I'm recalling you to Balmora, where you can finish recovering from your wounds in Ajira's capable care-"

Ajira purred in pleasure, sending a vibrating rumble through my chest.

"-And get some training in the more subtle skills that you're so helpless with right now. I've got big plans for you, Bill."

"I knew there was more to you than just looking for a job," Darius said once Caius had finished, "It'd occurred to me that you might be one of the Blades, but I wasn't certain. We'll miss you up here, Hawker, but I was glad to have you while we could. I'll be 'losing' the Ebony armor you recovered from the Daedric cultists when you leave town, which is a shame, but considering how much trouble you get into, I don't think anybody here could use it better."

"Thank you sir," I managed to get out, in spite of Ajira weighing down my (wounded) diaphragm, "I can honestly say that you've redeemed the honor of the Legion in my eyes, not to mention my perspective on its competence."

"Glad to hear it, Bannerman," Darius said with a nod, "I hope to see you again once the heat dies down around here. If you ever need support from the Legions in whatever shadowplay you get involved in with the Emperor's more subtle arm, call on me."

"Enough of the bleeding heart stuff," Caius grouched, "We need to get moving if we want to catch today's Strider run. Get him prepped for transport, Ajira."

'Transport, it turns out, involved being levitated under the control of someone else, one of the least dignified experiences I'd ever suffered at the hands of an ally, rather than adversary.

((()))

((()))

((()))

End of Arc one.

AN: For those more familiar with the game, they'll have noticed that I made some modifications here and there to various details in the game. Trust me, it makes for a better story this way...


	4. Vivec

AN: And now that we've had character development, time for some _plot_ development, eh?

((()))

1 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era. Day 175 in Morrowind.

Now that I'm back in shape (and Ajira is no longer too paranoid to let me out of her sight), I'm (on Ajira's advice), going to go run some errands for Edwinna Albert in the Ald'ruhn branch of the Mage's Guild. Teleportation services are cheap, so it's more or less like crossing the street to travel between guilds.

Caius spent a fair bit of the last month trying to grind some more advanced social skills into my head, reading body language, lying convincingly, etc, etc; I've got the feeling he was leading up to something with it all, but he's told me I'm free for the next few days, so not quite yet, I guess.

((()))

First task; find a copy of Chronicles of Nchuleft. There's a book seller across the street from the Balmora Guild-hall, so I'll be checking there first.

((()))

Dorisa Darvel, the bookseller, had a copy; it took me less than half an hour to get her the book. She was impressed by my efficiency.

My reward for efficiency? Off to the Guild-hall in Sadrith Mora to fetch her a potion from the Guild Steward there...

((()))

Well, that took all of about ten minutes. Edwinna gave me an Invisibility Potion, two scrolls of Ondusi's Unhinging, and sent me off to the _Vivec_ Guild-hall to 'borrow' a copy of 'Chimarvamidium' from Sirilonwe. I'm a bit antsy about what essentially amounts to stealing, but Caius has been on my case about improving my skills with stealth anyways, so off I go...

((()))

Sirilonwe appears to have a bladder made of steel. Still, she _eventually_ had to go visit the lady's room, and I pinched Chimarvamidium while she was out. It wasn't particularly difficult; I just found the only locked storage object in her rooms (a chest), used one of the scrolls to unlock it, filched the book, and headed back to Ald'ruhn.

I've done three glorified fetch-quests for her in one day, and been in the four largest cities in Vvardenfell to do so, though I've not set foot outside the Guild-hall of any other than Balmora. A weird day, but at least she said she'd send me out to accomplish something more serious tomorrow.

((()))

2 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Apparently, there's some sort of disturbance in the home of a Mage's Guild member up in Maar Gan by the name of Huleen. Edwinna doesn't want to deal with it, as it'd interrupt her studies, so she's sending me to take care of it.

((()))

Listien Bierles, Huleen's apprentice, felt he wasn't being taken seriously as a Sorceror, so decided to summon a Scamp, then lost control of it.

Idiot.

A Scamp is chump change for me, even though I wasn't wearing armor, so cleaning the whole mess up was pretty easy.

((()))

Edwinna wasn't impressed by the distraction either, and judging by the bags under her eyes, is pretty tired and cranky in general. She says she'll have another job for me tomorrow, and asked me not to tell Ajira that she'd gotten me into a fight because, to quote her exactly 'She'll claw my face off.'

I'm more than a little amused that Ajira is apparently starting to build a reputation for ferocity within the Mage's Guild...

((()))

3 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Edwinna looked like crap, but apparently it was because she's spent the last two days downing stamina potions to keep awake, and copying out Chimarvamidium. She wants me to return it now, before someone else in the Guild realizes that it was 'borrowed' in the first place. Back to Vivec with me.

((()))

Edwinna was happy that I'd completed yet another errand for her, and said she'd like to promote me, but apparently I'll need to learn some actual _spells_ before she can promote me to Journeyman; it's acceptable to have Alchemy or Enchanting as a primary focus, but all members of the Mage's Guild are expected to be able to actually _cast_ some spells.

Considering how often I've found myself overwhelmed since I arrived in Vvardernfell, I'm hardly opposed to broadening my skillset; I don't want to face another fight like the one I did against Oritius.

((()))

4 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Magical training is going to have to wait; Caius is sending me down to Vivec. I'm supposed to meet with three different contacts there. I think someone's trailing me, so I'll be keeping the names out of this for a while, in case someone manages to get their hands on it before I complete my mission. Caius didn't say it explicitly, but it's pretty obvious that this is intended to be a test of the skills he's been teaching me; we'll see how it goes.

((()))

I've had to stop _twice_ now to get Ajira to stop trying to stalk me on this mission. In the end, she agreed to stay in the Vivec branch of the Mage's Guild, but insisted that I return there each night until my visit to the city is complete. I've seen overly-protective behavior before, but this is getting _ridiculous_.

I also think I caught her trying to cast a shield spell on me on my way out of the Guild Hall, but Alteration isn't a school she's much good with.

((()))

5 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Vivec. It is a city like none other in all of Tamriel, and though I had technically been within its walls before when I visited the Mage's Guild for Edwinna, as I had not left the Guild-hall, I do not truly count it as a proper visit. Both when I visited it before, and when I arrived yesterday, the smooth stone construction of the Guild-hall had led me to believe that the larger part of the Guild-hall was underground, much as it is in Balmora, especially as the only exit was on the topmost level. Even when I first exited the Guild hall into the plaza of the Foreign Quarter, I thought that I had entered an immense cavern.

I could not have been more wrong.

The Foreign Quarter Plaza, and as I would later learn the plaza atop each Canton of Vivec, is a massive domed chamber, its walls of smooth stone that look as though they were sculpted, rather than chiseled, all of one piece, and incredibly durable. There are entire small mansions built beneath the dome, and many lesser structures, housing forges, residences, merchants, and the entrances to both the Fighter's and Mage's guilds. There was veritable (new word of the day, that) swarm of men, mer, and beastfolk moving through the plaza, and the crowd noise was thick enough that I was reminded of the Imperial City.

The Plaza was only the beginning though, it wasn't until I stepped out into the open air that I really began to comprehend the sheer scope of the city of Vivec. The gates in and out of the plaza merit description themselves; massive hardwood constructs, feet thick and watched over by elite Ordinator guards, clad in absurdly expensive Indoril armor. The gates are so precisely fitted to the stone that when they are closed, not even a hint of daylight slips past them, and beyond the gates themselves is a flight of steps, covered by a stone awning. Combined, the steps and awning extend far enough that targeting the gates themselves with siege weaponry is impossible without first destroying the heavy stone construction of the awning itself, which would result in fouling the approach to the gates with rubble.

Once one descends the stairs to the walkway around the perimeter of the Foreign Quarter's upper level, the full extent of Vivec's fortified nature can be realized. The walkway itself is broad enough for chariots to race on, with a waist-high perimeter wall, perfect for archers, crossbowmen, and battlemages to take cover behind before popping up to take potshots at enemies below. Regularly placed structural supports, doubling as heavy cover, run up from the perimeter wall and across to the top of the Canton's structural wall, points of cover intended for section officers and aid stations if I've ever seen them.

I had not seen any visible access to the 'roof' of the Canton when I was in the plaza, and a search of the perimeter walkway (simple, but time-consuming due to the sheer size of the structure) revealed no external means of reaching it. Walking the perimeter also revealed the rest of the city, lying to the South of the Canton I arrived in; the other Cantons apparently possessed only two tiers apiece, whereas the Foreign Quarter possesses three. Looking down on the topmost level of the other Cantons, my experienced eyes could discern where siege engines were intended to be mounted during time of war, and I made the logical assumption that similar mounts existed above me as well.

And that was only the beginning. In order to access the lower levels of the Canton, one has to use a set of internal ramps, just inside of the structural walls, accessed from the northern or southern faces of the Canton, whereas the Plaza can only be entered via the eastern or western faces of the Canton. My fascination with the fortified architecture of the city getting the best of me, I traveled down to the lowest level of the Canton before I entered its interior (referred to as the 'waistworks' by the city's inhabitants), and found to my delight that the brilliantly-planned architecture had been incorporated from the very lowest levels of the Canton.

The lowest level shared the same waist-high wall and external structural support/cover placement as the upper two levels, and only had a single bridge leading to the nearby shore, a ready choke point or collapsible element for defense. Better still, the lowest walkway rested a full five yards above the water level, meaning that even a full Man o' War would have difficulty landing troops onto the external walkway. The absolute _best_ element, however, was that there was _no internal access_ to the Canton's interior from the ground level at _all_. While this could cause some limited problems with supporting your combatants on the lowest level of the fortress Canton, it also meant that taking the lowest level of the Canton was an essentially meaningless achievement.

Instead, an attacking force would need to fight up the internal ramps, which could easily be cleared by a single good boulder throw, and which I had little doubt would have gates installed on either end in case of an impending attack. I would dearly love to see a sieging force attempting to use a battering ram on a gate at the top of a forty-five degree incline. Beyond that, as the waistworks had no internal connection to the plaza, seizing the primary interior of the Canton wouldn't give a sieging force control of the 'citadel,' or the siege engines atop the structure. Combine all of this with the fact that Dunmer are famously the best Battlemages in all of Tamriel, and the difficulty involved in assaulting any one Canton takes on suicidal proportions.

And according to the city maps I've seen, there are _nine_ Cantons in Vivec.

I love this city already, and I've barely set foot in it.

((()))

6 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

I found the first contact on my list, Huleeya, late last night. I'd been told I could find him at the Black Shalk Cornerclub; once I was able to locate the club inside of the Foreign Quarter's immense interior, finding Huleeya inside wasn't hard, he was the only Argonian in the place. It was obvious from the moment that I entered that something was wrong; the place was too quiet for a bar at prime business hours on a Fredas night; to source of the problem was just as obvious.

My combat senses tingling, I casually ambled (new word of the day, that) up to the Argonian, and introduced myself.

"Three blessings, Argonian," I greeted, "A friend of mine by the name of Caius said I could most likely find one of your kindred by the name of Huleeya here."

"Ah, a friend of Caius," Huleeya said, nodding gravely towards me, "I am glad to meet you, though I am afraid a conversation regarding our mutual friend's interests must wait, as certain worthless drunks are too foolish to leave me be."

Huleeya cast a meaningful glance towards a trio of Dunmer seated at a table that, inconveniently enough, was directly beside the entrance to the club. It was fairly obvious that they were at least mildly intoxicated, and all three were glaring murder at Huleeya, though only the one to the left looked like he had any idea how to handle himself in a fight. I looked back at Huleeya, sizing him up; I wouldn't put him quite at my level, but it was _very_ clear that the Argonian should have been able to wipe the floor with the three of them.

"It is beneath my honor as a member of the Morag Tong to kill such trash," Huleeya said, easily picking up on my confusion, "And besides, I do not wish to cause trouble for my friend, who owns the cornerclub."

"Understandable," I said with a nod, then turned towards the three Dunmer, "I'll take care of this."

I crossed the cornerclub again, trying to figure out what kind of an idiot would pick a fight with a member of the Morag Tong, and hoping they were the kind of idiots that were easy to intimidate.

"Evening folks," I said as I reached the table, pointedly laying my hand on the hilt of my sword, "Looks like you've got an issue with the Argonian over there."

"Damn filthy lizard," The drunkest of the three snarled, "Should be in shains like the resht of hish bloody rashe."

Ah, the _racist_ kind of idiots. Lovely.

"Well then," I said, spending a considerable amount of effort keeping the disgust off of my face, "I'll just be getting the Argonian out of here so you don't have to deal with him anym-"

"That filthy lizard," snarled thee one on the left, who also happened to be the most sober, "Is only leaving here in chains, or in a damned _box_."

It wasn't _what_ he said, it was the _way_ that he said it. Part of it was my extensive experience with reading opponents in a fight, part of it was the training in reading people's expressions that Caius had been putting me through; I could tell that the mer not only fully intended to follow up on what he said, but he actually believed that he could pull it off too. I turned, and gazed down into his eyes, searching his intent, trying to understand if he was just drunk, or legitimately thought he had a chance at enslaving Huleeya just because he hated Argonians.

I doubt he was more than buzzed, and all that I found in his gaze was sheer, vicious, _malice_.

"You're an idiot," I said bluntly, "I'm a master swordsman, and I can tell you that if you picked a fight with Huleeya over there, he'd wipe the floor with you. And now that _I'm_ here, you'd have to go through _me_ first, which a bunch of drunks like you have _no_ chance of being successful at."

"Stupid outlander," the Dunmer snarled, "I am Ethys Savil, and I've dragged dozens of his kind into their proper place, or put them into the ground. What makes you think you can stop me?"

"_This_," I said flatly, wiggling my hand on the hilt of my sword, "I've killed six fully armed men by myself, and you're going to come at me with what, your belt-knives? You must be a _special_ kind of stupid."

Savil laughed. _Laughed_ at my threat; apparently he was stupider than I thought. It was as he laughed, that I realized I had no real desire to let him live; he had just admitted to being both a slaver and a murderer. With how brazen he was about it, I was beginning to suspect that he had an 'in' with the local law enforcement in some way or another, as from what I'd seen while exploring the Foreign Quarter earlier in the day, the Ordinators were not the kind to allow such words to pass idly by.

"You've no idea how things work around here, Outlander," Savil sneered, "You'd best run along before you stick your head into things beyond your comprehension, and someone bites it off."

"I don't know what kind of friends you may have around here," I replied tightly, "But before you do anything stupid tonight, you'd best pay some thought to the fact that _right now_, I'm here with my sword, and your friends are not."

Savil replied with something caustic, but I paid him no attention; turning and heading back to Huleeya.

"I have things under control," I said simply, "Do you know of some place we can go to talk?"

"My friend, Jobasha," Huleeya said, eying me warily, "Has a bookstore on the other side of the Waistworks. It will be safe enough there."

"Let's go then," I said evenly, "I'll deal with the racists if they do something stupid."

Cautious, Huleeya directed his hard gaze at me for several long seconds, before nodding, and jerking his head towards the door. I followed him, just slightly behind and to his left, keeping myself positioned to intercept the three drunks if they made a move.

They did.

Bellowing with berserk rage as he saw me ignore his warning, Ethys Savil lurched to his feet, overturning the table he and his companions sat out, and drew the steel dagger at his waist. I advanced smoothly, my hand on the hilt of my sword ready to draw.

"You attack," I shouted, "And you sign your own death warrant."

He attacked, rushing me with a halfway decent knife-fighter's stance; nowhere near enough to pose a real threat to me. I waited until the instant before he reached me, when triumph had begun to form in his eyes, then released my anger at the slaving bastard, allowing the blood rage to begin. Fueled by my considerable strength augmented by the rage, I ripped my sword upward in a diagonal draw-cut, taking off Savil's hand, the upper third of his unarmored torso, and his head, all in one thunderous blow. Savil's friends, drunk enough to not realize what had just happened, charged around the edges of the table to attack me, knives in hand; I removed the hands, but nothing else.

The bar, already quieter than it should have been, became deathly silent.

"Anybody else?" I asked quietly as I pulled a rag from my belt, and began to clean the blood off of my Daedric Katana, my body trembling with the blood rage as I did so.

Nobody said anything.

"Let's go," I said to Huleeya, then withdrew one of my coin-purses from within my shirt, and tossed it to the bartender, "Sorry about the mess."

None challenged us as we left.

((()))

"Why did you kill them?" Huleeya whispered furiously as soon as we were within Jobasha's, "Do you know how much trouble you may have caused?"

"You said that it was beneath your honor as a member of the Morag Tong to kill them," I said flatly, "It is beneath _my_ honor as a man to let slaver scum like them simply have their way. I warned him to back down, he was the one who chose not to."

"Pah," Huleeya turned and spat on the stone floor, "Stupid Dunmer and their stupid sense of superiority. I have lost count of the number I have been sent to kill for crimes committed with even less sense," He turned back to face me, "You should be aware that Savil was a member of the Camonna Tong of some modest consequence, you may have made powerful enemies today."

"From what I've heard of the Camonna Tong," I said flatly, "I would have made enemies of them soon enough. Caius sent me to ask you about the Sixth House Cult and the Nerevarine Cult, what do you know?

"I don't know anything about a Sixth House Cult," Huleeya said, "I know that House Dagoth was the Sixth Great House amongst the Dunmer, and betrayed the others during the War of the First Council, then were betrayed for their treason; I've never heard of anybody worshiping them though. Dagoth Ur is the devil of the Tribunal Faith, but I've never heard of anyone worshiping him either."

"And the Nerevarine Cult?" I asked.

"I know of the Nerevarine Cult, but it is a complicated thing," Huleeya said, "In order to understand the Nerevarine Cult, one must understand that Nerevar means something very different to the Ashlanders than he did to the Great Houses. You will need to know the history of the Ashlanders, the legacy of the False Incarnate, and the Persecution of the Nerevarine, for the Nerevarine Cult is at the heart of the conflict between the Ashlanders and the Great Houses."

"So tell me," I said, "It's what I'm here for, after all."

"I am grateful for you preventing the necessity of me killing Savil and his fools," Huleeya said, "So I will make the time to tell you, and record some notes for you to take back to Caius. But it is late, come back and speak with me again tomorrow in the afternoon, after I have had the time to collect my thoughts and write the notes."

"Fair enough," I said with a nod, "Where will I find you tomorrow?"

"I will be here," Huleeya said, relaxing after I agreed, and allowing some of his fatigue to show, "Jobasha is a good friend, and will not mind me sleeping here."

"Until tomorrow then," I said, before turning to leave the bookshop.

((()))

7 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Ajira smelled blood on me when I returned last night; apparently that idiot bled on my pants when he died. She dragged the whole story out of me, then latched onto my torso when I tried to leave again this morning, refusing to let me leave. Eventually, I persuaded her to let me go, but she required that I don the full set of Ebony armor before I leave.

So much for being subtle.

((()))

Huleeya filled me in on a number of things today, I'll be recording my own notes on them here:

The history of the Ashlanders: Back before the First Council (and ensuing war with the Dwemer), the Great Houses hadn't fully formed yet, and the nomadic Ashlanders had much more in common with the rest of the Dunmer. Afterwards though, the Great Houses steadily built up their wealth, power, and population, gradually forcing the Ashlanders into less and less hospitable land. The Ashlanders look forward to the prophesied return of Nerevar to restore their lands, rights, and religious traditions. The Ashlanders do _not_ like the Tribunal Temple.

Persecution of the Nerevarine: Apparently, Nerevar, the first king of the unified Dunmer, is prophesied to be reborn some day. The Tribunal Temple treats these prophesies as heresy, imprisons and _executes_ those who believe in such whenever they can get away with it around Imperial Law. Since the Nerevarine Cult is mostly made up Ashlanders though, who have a serious hate on for the Empire, the Empire doesn't bother to interfere much. The treatment of the Cult is one of the main reasons _why_ the Ashlanders hate the Tribunal Temple.

False Incarnates: Over the years, a number of people claiming to be the Nerevarine (Nerevar reborn) have come, and gone. They've inevitably died trying to fill the prophesies, and the Tribunal Temple cites this as proof that the Nerevarine Prophecies are false. Strangely enough, the Ashlanders take the failed Incarnates as _proof_ of the coming Nerevarine, and generally regard them as heroes. The most recent, Peakstar, died some thirty years back. Peakstar was a _woman_. These Ashlanders are some kind of special fanatics...

The Nerevarine Cult itself is comprised of those who openly believe that Nerevar will return, and are pretty much exclusively Ashlander nomads. Unsurprising, considering the Temple's 'kill 'em all' attitude regarding the cult.

Notably, the Ashlanders also believe that the leaders of the Great Houses back in the day killed Nerevar, to clear their own path to power, those leaders now being the Almsivi.

I already knew the Dunmer had a reputation for fanaticism, but I'd had no idea it was this serious...

((()))

8 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Crossing the city to find the next contact was an adventure in and of itself. Apparently, the Ordinators (Temple Enforcers who fill the role of city guards in Vivec) are looking for a Redguard related to a death in the Foreign Quarter. Oddly enough, they didn't seem to draw the connection between a Redguard in commoner's clothes, and a Redguard wearing a suit of Ebony armor.

Not exactly surprising; usually only nobles can afford something like the Ebony we looted off of the Daedric cultists, and I've yet to meet a one who'd be caught dead in 'common rags.' Apparently, in this instance, sticking out like a sore thumb has a subtlety all its own.

My contact is in Saint Olms; but I don't have a specific location from Caius. Hopefully, they won't be too hard to find...

((()))

9 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Contact is apparently _not_ going to be easy to find; I did find someone else yesterday, but I'll not include their name until later for security reasons. Ajira was happy when I came back without any blood today, I swear she looked like she would have patted me on the top of my head if she could have reached.

Going out to hunt for the contact again today; we'll see what I find.

((()))

10 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Finally found a Dunmer in Saint Olms who knew something, Caius' training actually paid off as I picked up on the mer fidgeting with the helm of his garb every time he said he didn't know where my contact was. I ended up bribing him to tell me; apparently said contact is down in the Underworks. At this point, keeping the name out of here is probably redundant, as I started asking around publicly today, but I'll wait until I'm in the Underworks before putting the name in, because why not?

((()))

Apparently 'Underworks' means 'Sewers.' Like all 'civilized' cities, Vivec uses enchanted chamber pots to dispose of waste, so at least the place isn't full of shit, but there's still plenty of grim, trash, and vermin down here. Notably, the water is still clean, which tickles my 'siege planner' senses, and suggests more magic. Now I just need to find Addhiranirr.

((()))

11 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Unsurprisingly, the place is a bit of a maze. Not truly designed to make navigation difficult, but not designed to make it easy, either. Haven't found the Khajiit yet, and ended up sleeping on top of a bunch of musty sacks. A rat tried to creep up on me while I slept, but all it accomplished was making me wish Ajira was on hand to cook it.

((()))

Haven't found Addhiranirr yet, but did find a psychotic (new word of the day, that) woman in steel armor who was guarding something. She attacked me, even though it was pretty obvious I was wearing Ebony and wielding Daedric; with that kind of advantage on her steel equipment, I could have beaten her if she'd been _better_ than me, but she wasn't.

So, I'm making sure my potions are on hand, then heading through the door she was guarding.

((()))

When I entered the chamber, it was immediately plain to me that it was a Daedric Shrine.

The giant statue of Mehrunes Dagon was a pretty big hint.

I made a vague attempt to put the stealth skills Caius had started teaching me to work, but I don't know if it's _possible_ to be stealthy when wearing Ebony armor; I certainly wasn't up to it with my rookie skill level. Unlike the last shrine I'd raided, only three cultists were present in this one, and they all noticed me basically as soon as I entered.

Also unlike the last time, I didn't have a dozen legionaries to back me up. Also _also_ unlike last time, I was wearing a full suit of Ebony armor, rather than common Imperial Steel. Fortunately, the cultists also displayed the lack of tactical prowess I expect from such fanatics; unfortunately, one of them had an Ebony shield, another had a Daedric Longsword and a full set of Bonemold armor, and a third had a Crossbow; this made things... _difficult_.

When I entered the shrine, the Dunmer with the Ebony shield was directly in front of me, and like so many foolish cultists do, he attacked immediately, lashing out with a shortsword; I parried, but he absorbed my riposte on his shield; then shoved forward with it, nearly pushing me off balance. He lashed out with his shortsword again, but I disarmed him with twist of my blade, then was forced to retreat as the second cultist, clad in Bonemold Armor and swinging about wildly with his Daedric Longsword, charged me from the side.

"This will be the _end_ of you S'wit!" He snarled; slamming his blade into my own just as a crossbow bolt thudded into my shoulder, barely piercing the Ebony armor enough to score my flesh.

I could feel myself absorbing a magical effect from the bolt, meaning that the Crossbowman was a threat regardless of his inability to effectively penetrate my armor. The second Dunmer was no kind of swordsman, but he was carrying a Bonemold tower shield, and rammed me with it when I drove his blade out of alignment; I managed to score his side through his armor, but he didn't even seem to notice the wound. Luckily, he blockied the crossbowman's line of fire; I managed a few slashes at him, but even with a Daedric weapon, the poor angle I had around his shield while he forced me backwards prevented me from being able to pierce his armor.

He slammed me back into the shrine's entrance, before pulling backwards and slamming into me again; my armor took any real force out of the blow, and I was tired of trying to get at his head or torso, so I dropped down and stabbed him in the foot, pinning it to the stone floor. _That_ got his attention, and while he lurched backward and screamed, I drew one of my back-up knives, lunged forward, and stabbed it through the visor of his helmet.

The newly-made corpse and I tumbled backwards; I stripped his sword and shield as I went, interposing the shield between me and the Crossbowman as I rushed the Dunmer with the Ebony shield. He'd recovered his shortsword while I tangled with his friend, but when we clashed, we were in the midst of a set of thick stone pillars, and I was able to maneuver so that the Crossbowman didn't have a clear line of fire on me. With my attention no longer split, it came down to an issue of my skill against his, and as with most warriors in Tamriel, _that_ conflict took only seconds to resolve.

Then it was just me and the Crossbowman; fortunately the appropriate tool to deal with archers and the like had been provided by my dead adversary, and I was able to advance under cover. He pulled a pair of long knives once I got close, but he wasn't good enough at fighting with paired blades to take proper advantage of having two faster weapons; only one thing surprised me when I got into melee with him, and that was that once I was close enough to see him clearly in the shadows, it became clear he was wearing Dark Brotherhood armor.

It was nowhere near enough of a surprise (much less an outright shock) to throw me off balance, and I forced him back into a corner of the (relatively) small shrine, harrying attacks from my blade boxing him in while my pilfered shield kept him from getting a meaningful angle of attack on me. Once I had him backed into the corner, I threw the shield at him, then used his moment of surprise and recovery to wind up for a two-handed swing, cleaving right through his blades as he tried to block, and taking his head off. The blade was so keen, and I struck with so much force, that the Daedric Longsword imbedded itself into the stone wall of the shrine.

I turned, carefully controlling my breathing to keep it silent as possible, and drew my second back-up knife, watching and listening for signs of further cultists present in the shrine, or worse, Daedra themselves. Nothing moved in the shrine, save for the flickering of candles burning on the altar beneath the statue of Mehrunes Dagon, and after a few moments, I relaxed somewhat, and went to retrieve my own sword. While cleaning it, I noticed with some distaste that the point had been blunted slightly when it was rammed through both the top and bottom of a Bonemold boot, then a stone floor. I grimaced, then sheathed it, before setting about to loot the place.

There was what appeared to be a rather nicely furnished apartment behind the shrine itself, complete with lockpicks, probes, potions, and a variety of everyday street war. I rather suspected it was where the Dark Brotherhood assassin had been living; either way, his loot was now mine. After I'd gathered up everything except what lay on the altar, I stashed it next to the shrine's exit, then headed over to the altar, sword in my right hand, the Ebony shield on my left. I took a moment to make sure I knew the full heft of the shield, lay the blade of my sword on the altar, turned to face directly away from it, then swept my sword forward, knocking off the handful of gems and other valuables that had been placed on the altar as sacrifices.

Directly in front of me, a Dremora carrying a polearm appeared, one with a familiar scar across the right side of his face.

"Drekhva Yashaz," I said, grinning ferally, "It's been too long."

"William Hawker," The Dremora replied, "You know _most_ mortals _aren't_ foolish off to continually piss off a god?"

"Oh, you know me," I growled out, "No patience for psychotic tyrants determined to kill as many people as they can. I figure Dagon's servants are best directed towards myself, rather than some hapless farmer in Cyrodiil or the like."

"I'm noticing a distinct lack of your usual companions," Yashaz said, carefully looking around the small shrine, not letting me out of his line of sight, "You lose them somewhere?"

"Yeah," I snarled, "Someone betrayed and killed them. I figure your boss might know a thing or two about that."

"If Lord Dagon does," Yashaz said, lowering his balance as he prepared to start the fight, "He didn't tell me, but you can ask him when I drag your soul down to speak with him personally."

"We'll see about that," I growled, and decided to take the initiative.

((()))

_Editor's Note: Do to the many, many, _many_ personal clashes with the Dremora Lord known as Drekhva Yashaz that appear in Lord Nerevar's journals, and the... _excessive_ detail with which His Highness recorded them, it has been decided to remove all but one of them from this compilation. If any Redguards or other warriors of particularly keen interest in such accounts who have been granted access to this compilation which to read these specific details, they may speak with the Royal Librarian about where they are filed._

((()))

Unfortunately, I wasn't better _enough_ to take Yashaz down without also banishing him from mundus, so my questions about Mehrunes Dagon's involvement with my party's deaths would go unanswered for the time being. I was still able to make off with the looted potions, lockpicks, gems, and Daedric Longsword though; while the hole through the Ebony Shield was less than ideal, I was confident I'd be able to get it repaired by _someone_ here in Vivec; checking at the Fighter's Guild back in the Foreign Quarter was probably necessary. I needed to get the tip of my Katana repaired anyways.

On to find Addhiranirr.

((()))

Found Addhiranirr; turns out the Khajiit is down here hiding from the 'nice' Census and Excise agent I ran into up in the Waistworks, and isn't willing to talk to me unless I get him to stop looking for her. She didn't say it outright, but it's pretty clear that she's been involved in smuggling Dwemer Artifacts and Ebony. I'm not particularly happy that she's been subverting the law, but she's not involved in anything inherently murderous or violent, so I can deal with it.

This is probably the sort of 'favor' Caius was talking about, anyways.

((()))

After the disappointment of failing to get any information out of Yashaz, I _needed_ the stress relief from dealing with Duvianus Platorius. The man was obviously nothing more than a bureaucrat, and how he got sent into the field, I have no idea. He took one look at my damaged armor, complete with bloodstains, and the hole in my Ebony shield, and when I told him that I'd gone looking for Addhiranirr in the Underworks and discovered that she'd taken a Gondola for the mainland, he 'conveniently' happened to already be planning on leaving for the mainland himself.

I don't think I've ever seen a government agent do a more pitiful job of hiding their fear in my life.

((()))

Addhiranirr was happy to talk with me after I got rid of the Imperial, though I had to take a stamina potion to make sure I was properly alert while she filled me in.

According to Addhiranirr, the Nerevarine Cult is silly superstition; prophecies and heroes reborn, fuzzy tales for little kitties.

She was much more informative regarding the Sixth House Cult; apparently, some of the sharper smugglers have a new employer, one that pays _very_ well, and Addhiranirr has been able to uncover that it's the Sixth House Cult. Particularly strange, is that where they're usually the braggart types, they're now _very_ quiet about what they're moving, 'like fat-bellied kitties full of sweet-meats,' she said. It's pretty plain that the subject has her on edge, and having some experience with what it takes to make a chronic braggart shut up, I'm not surprised.

The Sixth House Cult is one of _those_ groups, who have _no_ compunction about killing someone who gets in their way.

Time to get back to the Mage's Guild for the night.

((()))

12 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Had another dream of the Dunmer with the golden mask. Dreams of death have been no stranger to me in the last year, but they don't usually have _me_ as one of the dead. This time, at least I wasn't paralyzed as well as being 'dead,' but there was talk about 'delivered from the hands of my enemies,' and 'the house of the Master,' the latter of which was rather disturbing.

I'm not quite ready to talk to someone else about this as something serious yet, but I _am_ going to try to find out if the tales of Dagoth Ur involve him wearing a golden mask.

More sleep now, hopefully.

((()))

13 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

I woke up tied to my bed in the mage's guild this morning. It was the single most terrifying experience I have ever had in my life; nobody has _ever_ been able to creep up on me in my sleep before, not since I was a very young child and my mother died. Fortunately, Ajira was nearby, and was able to cut me loose before whoever accomplished the rather foolish attempt at... assassination? Interrogation? I don't know.

It took me the entire rest of the morning to stop freaking out, and unfortunately, while I was still off balance, I blurted out exactly what kind of threat an Assassin slipping into the Mage's Guild and catching me off guard represented, including that I'd killed a Dark Brotherhood Assassin in the sewers under Saint Olms the prior night. I'm afraid that I unintentionally terrified her, and she's been even more clingy with me ever since, unwilling to let me out of her sight, and trying to maintain physical contact with me as much as possible.

I kept trying to get myself to be firm with her, but her eyes looked so _sad, _and I couldn't force the issue. In the end, she kept me in the Mage's Guild all day.

((()))

14 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Made it out to visit my last contact today by getting up and leaving before Ajira woke up. Down to the temple district with me.

((()))

Long trip, crossing the city. Now I just need to find the library of Vivec. Being this close to the Ordinators is making me antsy; they're arrogant, and their body language screams 'I have the right to do anything I want to you if I feel you have broken the law.'

((()))

Found my contact, Mehra Milo; it's not hard to see that she's on edge about talking to me, pulled me back into a recessed part of the library before she'd really discuss anything of consequence. She doesn't know anything about the Sixth House Cult, but what she has to say about the Nerevarine Cult...

Apparently, there's a group called the 'Dissident Priests' (pleasantly functional name, that), which disputes the Tribunal Temple's doctrine regarding Nerevar. According to the temple, Nerevar is a saint and a hero, according to the Dissident Priests, the Nerevarine Prophecies have some legitimacy; unsurprisingly, the temple doesn't like this faction. She told me to find a book called the Progress of Truth and bring it to Caius, it should have more information.

Before I left, she told me she was worried that she was being watched; a number of her friends had been Dissident Priests, and gone into hiding, and she was sure that she was being watched by the Ordinators as a consequence. Mehra also gave me a codeword to use (which will _not_ be recorded here) in case something goes wrong for her; she's quite aware that she's not an espionage adept, though for some reason she thinks _I_ am.

I'd hate to see something happen to her; she's pretty, for a Dunmer, and I have a lot more respect for a priestess who's willing to confront truths which she's uncomfortable with.

((()))

Ajira was pissed I left before she woke up, but coming back without any new wounds or damage to my armor reassured her. I got one of the smiths here in the Foreign Quarter to do some work on my armor and Katana; I'll also be heading down to Jobasha's to see if she has a copy of The Progress of Truth before we head back to Balmora. Ajira insisted on coming with me, and this point I don't see the harm in it.

((()))

14 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Had another one of those damn dreams. It's time to talk to Caius about this. The Dunmer in the golden mask was part of it again, but this time I was paralyzed, not dead, and I'm pretty sure he was trying to enchant me somehow. I'm putting some serious thought into study of more active magics again.

Got the book last night, heading back to Balmora now.

((()))

Read The Progress of Truth; it was an interesting piece. In essence, it came down to three points. The last raised, being the corruption of the upper ranks of the Priesthood; the Dissident Priests argue that the Temple leadership no longer speak for the Tribunal, and have become more interested in the authority they hold, and the life of luxury attached to it. Attached to this, the Ordinators are being used as thugs, with tactics such as abduction, torture, and secret imprisonment to maintain the temple leadership's hold on power.

The second point, is challenging the divinity of the Tribunal itself; the Dissident Priests recognize many heroic and supportive acts on the part of the Almsivi for the Dunmer people, but question the supposed source of their divinity. By 'official record' the source of the Almsivi's power is apotheosis via moral ascension and empowerment by the ancestral spirits of the Dunmer people, Saint Veloth, and the 'Good Daedra.' This leads directly into what seems to be the crux of it all; Red Mountain.

Apparently, Dagoth Ur derives some form of infernal power from within Red Mountain, and the Dissident Priests suspect that the Almsivi used the same means to empower themselves. The Ashlanders account of the battle of Red Mountain, and the official account on the part of the Tribunal Temple and the Great Houses directly conflicts on several critical details; whether Nerevar died of his wounds after fighting the Dwemer or was betrayed by the Tribunal (the Great Council members of the time), whether Nerevar destroyed the Dwemer as a people, and what role Dagoth Ur played in it all.

I hope Caius can lend some more insight on all of this, because while it's somewhat interesting to know that the Almsivi are probably false gods, I don't see what it has to do with what's going on _now_. The existence of the Sixth House Cult suggests that Caius is going _somewhere_ with all of this, but all the other major players are either dead, or deific forces. Perhaps information gathering for the Emperor is our _only_ part to play in this; that _is_ what the Blades are for after all. Even if I can't imagine how to effectively oppose gods, the Emperor probably can.

((()))

Caius listened to my report, took the notes from Huleeya and the copy of The Progress of Truth, then said he needed time to digest it all. He told me to go do some work for one of the Guilds in the meantime, to maintain my 'cover.' He winked at me as he told me to do so, and I'm pretty sure he's conspiring with Ajira to keep me busy...

He also gave me 200 Drakes, and told me I should try to pawn the Daedric Longsword off with the scamp in Caldera.

((()))

15 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

I'm in Ald'ruhn now, and I'm going to spend some time training with magic. I'll talk to Edwinna about just what would be the best field for me to start with.

((()))

Edwinna recommended I start out with Mysticism; apparently she's dealt with warrior-types interested in learning magic before, and she says it's generally the best place to start. I really don't know much about magic, period, so I'm hardly going to disagree with the Guild Steward about this. Odds are good there won't be any entries in this for a while, as I'm hardly going to include the minutiae of training in here.

((()))

22 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Edwinna's been giving me odd looks during training, when I asked her about it, she said she'd tell me when she's done teaching me a few of the basic spells.

((()))

29 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

So according to Edwinna, I have an _unnatural_ affinity for Mysticism. She taught me the basics of the school, and then Mark and Recall.

_After_ I had demonstrated that I could adequately teleport across the main chamber of the guild hall five times, she took me aside into her private quarters, and told me that Mysticism was, in fact, the _hardest_ school of magic to learn. Apparently, Mysticism involves the most esoteric and conceptually difficult to comprehend forms of magic, as most spell effects within the discipline do not directly parallel something that can be done without magic, as Alteration, Destruction, and Restoration spells customarily do. The one exception is Telekinesis, which is what she said she _usually_ teaches warriors looking to learn magic, as if they have the determination and mental faculty to understand the basics of the school and learn to channel magicka, she's not going to throw the most difficult spells in the school at them.

The most difficult spells being Mark and Recall.

Further, what I learned in two weeks, according to her, should have taken _months_; learning to meaningfully channel one's magicka reserves in the first place is not a simple task, and is where most associate members wash out of the guild, before even becoming proper Apprentices. I suggested that my experience with the energies my warding from The Atronach allowed me to absorb may have given me an edge on this. She said it was possible; she had never heard of another person with active blessings from the Atronach actually learning to cast spells, as the stunted magicka regeneration individuals such as myself suffer as counterpart to our ability to absorb spells usually makes learning magic functionally impossible.

Fortunately, after pawning things off to that Scamp (where _does_ he get that money?) I had enough gold to buy out the restore magicka potion stock of every Alchemist in the guild for training, and since they're all linked by a teleportation network, it was fairly easy. Ajira _did_ start laughing when I started burping up small fireballs after the hundredth potion or so.

Either way, I've earned my promotion to Journeyman now.

((()))

30 Sun's Dawn, 428, 3rd Era.

Caius was waiting for me at the Mage's Guild when I returned to Balmora today, just having a 'friendly chat' with Ajira. He chatted with me for a while as well, before heading home, slipping a piece of paper into my hand when he shook it before departing. Its message was fairly simple:

"The Camonna Tong did some digging, and figured out who you are. They passed that on to the Temple Ordinators, the Legion head at Ebonheart, and the surviving nobles from your little fiasco in Hammerfell. Get to Sadrith Mora immediately, and go to ground in the Telvanni lands, the Cammona Tong have no power there, the Imperial Legion little, and the Ordinators even less. Take Ajira with you; Balmora is a town with heavy Tong-influence, and they'll kill her just to get at you if she stays."

These Tongs are smarter than I thought; looks like they've set all Oblivion loose on me, and it's time to get out of town.

((()))

AN: This is the second-to-last post for the first 'book' of this story; the last one is pretty long too, but I didn't want to chop it up and leave people with nasty cliffhangers.


	5. Wandering for Purpose

AN: This is the last chapter for the first arc of the story; it'll be some time before I start posting again, as I want to finish the second arc before I start posting it.

((()))

1 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Ajira and I are in Sadrith Mora now, at the Gateway Inn. This city is like nothing I've ever seen before; aside from the Imperial Legion fortress, Wolverine Hall (which also hosts the local Mage's Guild chapter), the entire thing is built out of _giant_ _mushrooms_. The place was literally _grown_ by the Telvanni; I've never seen anything like it before.

Skink in Tree's Shade, the Argonian in charge of the guild here, asked me to escort an Altmer named Tenyeminwer (a mouthful even for an Altmer) down to the docks, since I was heading towards the Gateway Inn anyways. Apparently, she'd gotten into an argument with one of the Telvanni last night, and has decided the smart thing to do is leave town.

It was an uneventful trip; if anyone _was_ planning to take a hit out on her during the trip to the docks, seeing her under escort by a Redguard in full Ebony armor and a Khajiit in Mage's Guild robes changed their mind. We chatted for a few hours on the docks while we waited for her ship, the Elf-Skerring, to leave, and she mentioned that there's a Daedric Ruin with no known entrance less than a day's travel to the East of Sadrith Mora.

Ajira and I retired to the nearby Gateway Inn to rest for the night.

((()))

2 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Today was _not_ a good day. I visited the north part of town, and found Sadrith Mora's open-air market.

And the slave cages, suspended from a spiraling organic structure, dozens of slaves held within them. I had _heard_ that slavery was legal in Morrowind, I had found the captives in smuggler's caves, but this was the first time that I had seen slaves being held, auctioned off like _animals_, in public.

My hand twitched for my sword; I began to instinctively eye the guards around the bazaar, as well as the slavers who were hawking their 'wares' to the bustling citizens of Sadrith Mora within. Too many; _far_ too many. There were two dozen guards I could see just from where I stood, each wearing a set of Bonemold armor topped with an odd purple insectoid helm the Telvanni guards favored. Bonemold armor is serious business, it's every bit as strong as a full suit of Imperial Plate, but considerably lighter. Worse was their equipment; Bonemold shields, Steel war-axes, and bows. Axes are high-strength weapons; even with Ebony armor and shield, getting ganged up on by a group of axe and shield wielders would spell a hasty end to me, and, of course, who _knew_ what kind of mage support they'd get? Odds of me clearing the market of hostiles before reinforcements started pouring in were pretty much nil.

For a long moment, I considered rushing the slavers anyways, but Ajira tugging at my shoulder pulled me from my murderous train of thought, and I turned to look down at her.

"Bill is angry," Ajira said skittishly, as she looked up at me, then over at the slave pens, "But Ajira is afraid. Can we leave this place?"

I nodded silently, and we stormed away, moving East.

((()))

3 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

There were some Daedra roaming around the surface of the Daedric ruins; a few Atronachs, a Dremora, and a single Golden Saint. The rest were just fodder to vent my frustrations on, as they were too scattered about to support each other, but I'd never fought a Golden Saint before. They're impossible to mistake for anything else, being of humanoid shape with golden skin (and they show a lot of it), golden armor, and winged helm.

The one at the ruined shrine was carrying an Ebony staff, and fought fairly well, but its ridiculously over-exposed flesh was a crippling disadvantage, as a single slash across its thigh from my blade crippled its balance, and staffs are worthless weapons when you've only got one good leg.

Once the Saint was down, we made camp in the ruins, and I got to enjoy the sight of Ajira carving the hearts out of several of the dead Daedra, not to mention stripping a grainy sand-like substance from the Atronachs. She'd mentioned that Daedra hearts were valuable ingredients in Alchemy before, but it was pretty damn disturbing to watch her carve up the humanoid Dremora, and _especially_ the Golden Saint, who could have easily passed as a woman who'd taken a bath in golden paint. She said it had to be done quickly, before their bodies faded back into Oblivion; even Daedra brought into the world by more permanent means than a simple summon spell don't last long. I think she was taking some aggravation out on the bodies herself; I can't imagine she was any happier about what she saw in the bazaar at Sadrith Mora than I was.

Smoke is coming up through cracks in the ruins; we'll search for an alternate entrance into the shrine today.

((()))

4 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Went for a swim today; didn't find any alternate entrances. Ajira's made us up some potions of water walking, and we'll be heading East, getting further away from that damn Telvanni city.

((()))

5 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Ajira's being stubbornly unreasonable; found a tomb, going to go in and blow off some steam smashing skeletons.

((()))

_Editor's Note: Cross-referencing Baroness' Ajira's personal notes revealed that her 'stubbornness' lay in an attempt to dissuade Lord Nerevar from engaging in a personal assault on Sadrith Mora's mercantile district during the night. Direct consultation with Lord Nerevar confirmed that this was the case, and an expedition to Baroness' Ajira's tower near Tel Uvirith revealed a more detailed recounting of the event. The most essential element is that Lady Ajira attempted to physically restrain Lord Nerevar from departing by wrapping herself around his midsection. Sufficiently angered to strike his companion in an attempt to remove her (with mailed fist, not blade), Lord Nerevar's anger turned against himself once he realized what he'd done, and as stated, he departed and sought to quench his anger upon mindless foes._

_As a further note, the generally terse nature of the entries in this section of the journals is a result of Lord Nerevar's increasingly black moods during this period._

((()))

6 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Found the entrance to the Daedric Shrine, apparently it's remained secret by hiding inside of a tomb _on a different island_. Explains why the tomb had Daedroths in it; I carved out their hearts (and the surrounding chunk of their chests since I wanted to make sure I didn't leave something important) and brought them to Ajira as an 'I'm sorry' gift.

She took them, but seemed uncertain how to react to me otherwise. Going back into the tomb to raid the shrine itself tonight. Cultists usually expect to be raided during the day, because night is when _they_ do all their shit, the 'hero-types' are supposed to be day-warriors.

((()))

7 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Apparently, the interior of the shrine had been taken over by some insane smith. It was littered with smithing equipment, a number of treatises on how to forge and repair weapons, an anvil being kept next to a _lava pit_, one fire and one frost Atronach, a Daedric helm, and a Warhammer kept in a chest magically suspended over the lava pit. Also, a pair of Dwemer boots with a levitation enchantment on them. Even after recovering the boots, I burned through the handful of Levitation potions I had in reserve, as well as a fire resistance one to get close to the lava pit without burning myself.

There was no sign of the smith, so I'm fairly sure that the lava pit was the only source of smoke. The Warhammer is enchanted both to be near weightless to the wielder, and aid them in striking accurately. This makes it hit _hellishly_ hard; I'm giving it to Ajira for self-defense.

((()))

8 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Ajira seems a lot happier now that I've given her the Warhammer; I didn't think females went for that kind of thing (outside of Hammerfell anyways), but I guess I don't know much about Khajiit culture on gender roles anyways. We're going to try to head South now, making our way through the Archipelago out here as we're able.

((()))

_Editor's Note: The following sections are woefully incomplete; Lord Nerevar seemed to have little inclination to record the day-to-day happenings of his travel South along Azura's Coast, or even some fairly significant events, such as a raid on a second Daedric Shrine. The Lady Ajira has consented to share some of her personal account of this time, which will be included after the final entry during this journey._

((()))

11 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Helped a Dunmer named Satyana raid her own family's tomb, she was looking for her father's amulet. I thought the Dunmer were have to hold great respect for the dead, but I guess they don't really have much respect for anyone but themselves.

((()))

12 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Another Dark Brotherhood Assassin caught up with me, though why he decided to attack out here in the wilderness, I have no idea. I hadn't realized it until after I'd finished carving the s'wit up, but I'd never told Ajira that the Dark Brotherhood was after me personally, and this was the... sixth? Seventh? Assassin that had come after me. She's a bit freaked out to realize that the most infamous group of Assassins in Tamriel are trying to kill me.

((()))

14 First Seed., 428, 3rd Era.

Have to slow down travel, Ajira's getting exhausted.

((()))

16 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Found a strange cave today, filled with diseased, bloated creatures, and some sort of zombie with the front of their heads cut open, some with freaky things growing out of the holes. Ajira said the diseased creatures have Corprus, which is a disease that drives you crazy, as well as making you physically more powerful; there's no known cure, so I should be damn careful.

I was; none of those sick fetchers got anywhere _near_ Ajira.

((()))

18 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Found a huge statue of Azura here in the South; I guess this is why the place is called 'Azura's Coast.' Ajira and I are going to climb the cliff it's mounted on, and see if we can get inside.

((()))

There were no Daedric beings around the exterior of the shrine, which struck me as odd; when we entered the shrine, and there were no crazed cultists or other Daedra, it seemed to me _extremely _strange. It was not all _that_ odd, I suppose, that the one Daedra who more or less everyone understands to be _good_ wouldn't set her shrine up as a deathtrap, or suffer homicidal followers. The real mind-breaker, was what happened when we approached the statue _within_ the shrine.

_It came to life_.

"**Young William,**" Azura's avatar said, a gentle smile on its lips as it knelt down to speak with me, "**It is good to see you.**"

I had no idea what to say. The stone, now come to life, was some twenty feet tall when _kneeling_, and her voice, though gentle of tone, filled the shrine's enormous inner sanctum with a booming resonance. I had never spoken with a divine before, and had no idea how to react; Ajira was outright hiding behind me.

"**Do not worry,**"Azura said, reaching down slowly to gently touch me on the arm with a stone finger, "**I, unlike most of my peers, am well aware of how different life is for mortals, and understand your confusion and hesitance. This said, you have come here for a twofold reason, though you may not yet realize what it is. Sheogorath and I have made a wager; he contends that solitude causes madness, while I maintain it allows for solace and meditation. To test this, I sent one of my priestesses to live alone on an island North of Dagon Fel. If she can live there for 100 years, continuing her life of prayer, my theory will be proven. If not, Sheogorath wins our wager.**

"**The time has almost passed, and she remains steadfast. But Sheogorath has tried to sway the decision in his favor. Travel there, rid the island of his minions, and bring back proof of his meddling. Do not disturb the wise woman though, as that would void our wager. Serve me, and I will reward you well.**"

I stood there, the _living statue's hand upon my shoulder_, and was unable to act. Part of me found the experience to be utterly alien, part of me _knowing_ this voice, this face, and desiring to naturally heed its call. The conflict within utterly crippled me, and I've no idea how long I would have stood there, if I had been alone.

Fortunately, I was not alone.

"Ajira and Bill will do this thing for Azura," My young Khajiit friend declared fearfully from where she peeked out behind my shoulder, "Ajira and Bill will go North and protect Azura's wise woman, as soon as Lady Azura lets Bill go so that Ajira can take him there."

"**Ah, young Ajira,**" Azura said, turning her attention to the Khajiit hiding behind me, "**I have words for you also, though they are for your ears alone.**"

The statue's mouth moved, and I could feel the floor of the shrine tremble slightly with the strength of Azura's voice, but I could not make out the words. Some long moments passed, then Azura returned her attention to me, removing her hand from my shoulder, and withdrawing to stand upright again.

"**Go now, young Hawk, and safeguard my priestess, I shall speak with you once more after the deed is done.**"

The statue cast one last smile in my direction, confusing me all the more, and then returned to its original posture, freezing in place, once again nothing more than stone.

"Bill and Ajira need to leave this place," Ajira immediately said, tugging on my elbow, "We is having work to do."

Still more than slightly dazed by what I had just experienced, I allowed her to lead me away.

((()))

19 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

We're heading to Tel Branora, the nearest Telvanni settlement, and from there, we'll be taking ship up the Eastern coast to Dagon Fel.

((()))

27 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Reached Tel Branora. The damn Telvanni keep slaves here as well; Ajira helped me keep a lid on my temper until the ship we chartered passage on left. This place is going on my list of 'places to burn to the ground.'

((()))

29 First Seed, 428, 3rd Era.

Ajira convinced me to stay below deck today. The ship is stopping over in Sadrith Mora, unloading passengers and cargo, taking on more. Ajira isn't sure I'd be able to keep from doing something violent if I saw that damn city again, and she's right to be worried.

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2 Rain's Hand, 428, 3rd Era.

Reached Dagon Fel today. First time I've seen Imperial uniforms in months; none of them seemed to be on the lookout for me though. Ajira and I bought some small pots for her to store alchemy ingredients in, then left town, heading Northwest.

((()))

5 Rain's Hand, 428, 3rd Era.

Had to cross a small chunk of ocean, but between Ajira summoning some sort of large sea-turtle, and potions, we made it across without having to kill more than a few dozen Slaughterfish. Aggressive little bastards.

((()))

There were a few Scamps and one Daedroth on the island when we got here; cleaned them up, found the priestess' hut, and camped out in front of it. We'll keep an eye out for more Daedra.

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6 Rain's Hand, 428, 3rd Era.

Ogrim today. Big, ugly things, but clumsy, and don't know how to coordinate. Ajira was faster, led a couple of them on a chase, I just chopped them up while they flailed around trying to hit me.

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7 Rain's Hand, 428, 3rd Era.

Hunger today. Fast, vicious things; Ajira summoned some Scamps to buy time while I chopped them up. Actually managed to wound me a little, but Ajira's spot-on with the healing potions.

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8 Rain's Hand, 428, 3rd Era.

Mix of Atronachs today, with one Winged Twilight. Fire are the fastest; I took care of them, then Ajira summoned a couple more to help me against the Frost Atronachs. Winged Twilight nearly killed her while I was dealing with the single Storm Atronach (even Daedric weapons don't cut stone easily), I busted it up pretty good, before I remembered Ajira needed potions to not die. A lot of her stock was smashed by the Twilight, but on the flip side, lots of Atronach salts and Daedra parts to make new ones.

((()))

9 Rain's Hand, 428, 3rd Era.

A pair of Dark Brotherhood Assassins attacked today, worked with a group of Golden Saints to do so. Nasty business all of them, but Ajira managed to bring up a Storm Atronach to keep some of the Golden Saints busy while I fought with the Assassins. They were carrying Daedric weapons themselves; not sure if the guild is upping the ante, or the Saints decided to help them out. Either way, if they'd sent foes that fought with something other than blades, we would have been swamped, but this constant fighting has been pushing me to an apex of skill that I have never before reached.

One of the Golden Saints had a signet ring; it makes me feel a little crazy just looking at it, so I assume it's something related to Sheogorath; we took it, but neither of us is stupid enough to wear it.

((()))

At sunset, which Ajira tells me is one of Azura's sacred times, the voice of Azura came to us both out of nowhere.

"**You have done well, young warrior and mage. With Sheogorath's interference turned aside, things will resolve as they are meant to, and though you know it not, your own journey has been turned to a higher cause by this journey. Go now, and travel to the Southwest, for your presence in Dagon Fel was noted, and enemies await your return.**"

With the soft whisper of displaced air, something fell out of the sky between Ajira and I; both of us leapt back, wary after the past week's struggles. A soft _thump_ sounded as a brilliant star-shaped gem bit into the soil between us; Ajira seized it almost immediately, going berserk over the thing.

"It is Azura's Star!" She squeaked out excitedly, "Oh, Bill and Ajira are most fortunate!"

((()))

10 Rain's Hand, 428, 3rd Era.

As we departed the island, Ajira explained a few things about Azura and the Daedra. Azura's Star is the most potent and valuable Soul Gem there is, with no known limit on what it can absorb, and it endures through unlimited uses. Winged Twilight are the servants of Azura, and thus the one we defeated was most likely a part of the attack to cast blame for the spoiled bet upon Azura herself; Golden Saints are the servants of Sheogorath, and thus it is unsurprising that they were held in reserve until the end.

Good things to know, I guess.

((()))

12 Rain's Hand, 428, 3rd Era.

We found another Daedric Shrine, right on the coast of another one of the large islands up here. No Daedra around the entrance, so we went in to explore _cautiously_. A few Orcs tried to kill us; a couple were decent warriors, even with Orcish equipment, but after the Daedra of last week, they seemed little challenge.

The sanctum of the shrine, on the other hand, was interesting. It was a shrine to Malacath (unsurprising given the Orcs), and he was pretty pissed at me for killing his worshippers. Why he didn't animate the statue like Azura and crush me, I don't know, but he didn't. Instead he demanded a task of me, that I seek out the last progeny of a Dunmer by the name of Oreyn Bearclaw, who apparently stole the credit for the feats of his companion, an Orc. Once I find him (somewhere along the Bitter Coast), I'm supposed to 'end the line of the impostor.'

Bearclaw being a _warrior_, I'm hardly unfamiliar with his exploits. We'll see if there's truth to this tale or not.

((()))

17 Rain's Hand, 428, 3rd Era.

Reached Khuul today; wore closed helm to hide face while Ajira did the talking to charter passage to the northernmost settlement on the Bitter Coast, aside from Gnisis. There's no way Ajira and I would go unrecognized in Gnisis.

((()))

19 Rain's Hand, 428, 3rd Era.

Too easy. The people of Gnaar Mok said that Farvyn Oreyn, 'great hero,' is just South of town. I don't like this.

((()))

_Editor's Note: At this time, an account of the journey from Sadrith Mora, that ultimately terminated South of Gnaar Mok, from Lady Ajira will be included so that readers may gain a more complete picture of Lord Nerevar during said journey. Of note to readers, Lady Ajira's tendency towards third person references is no longer as pervasive as it once was._

((()))

When Ajira went with Bill to Sadrith Mora, I thought that he knew that Telvanni were known for keeping many slaves, and I also knew that he had been to Caldera, so I thought he had seen the slaves working the mines there. His reaction to seeing slaves for sale at the market in Sadrith Mora was both heartening, as it confirmed that he was not one to simply look away when it was hard, and also terrifying.

Ajira had never before, and only once since, seen any man, mer, or beastfolk so angry. Bill feels things with great force, and it takes strength of character for anger to run so _deep_; I believe to this day that he would have tried to start a slave-revolt right there all by himself if I hadn't pulled him away. Getting him out of the city was not hard, dealing with what he did to the Daedra at Anudnabia was harder. When Bill attacked the Daedra, he didn't do it as a warrior trying to defeat his foes, but as an angry man trying to _hurt_ something. He didn't lay out blows designed to inflict pain, but he was using brutal attacks designed to _break_ enemies, at least until he came to the Golden Saint; that foe was humanoid, and carried a weapon like a human, and his swordsman's instincts took over.

Bill and Ajira left the large island Sadrith Mora is on the next morning, I think more because Bill did not want to be on the same piece of land as that accursed market, but after the swimming he had us do to try to find an entrance to that shrine, I was just glad to be on dry land again. What happened the next morning, when Bill tried to go back to Sadrith Mora, was one of the most terrifying things I'd experienced since I escaped from slavery. Bill is a powerfully built man, but I don't think anyone can realize just how _strong_ he is, until he strikes you, and he very nearly knocked me senseless, even with just a glancing blow.

Ajira is not afraid to admit to being afraid of him after he struck her that night, and was relieved when Bill went storming off into the island's interior. Like any decent Alchemist, I was easily able to heal the lump on my head, and by the time Bill returned, I had recognized the guilt I saw in his face before he left, so I was somewhat less angry with him. When he just _gave_ me the _Skull Crusher_, I was too shocked to be much of anything else for the rest of the night. Skull Crusher is one of the most powerful weapons forged by mortals, without the involvement of Daedra or Aedra, and it is a _masterfully_ crafted weapon. It allowed a small Khajiit like me to be a deadly threat to any enemy, even those in heavy armor, because it is so easy to wield, and hits harder than even an Ebony Warhammer. I still keep it with me now.

More important than the Artifact that he gave Ajira though, is that after that night, I stopped idealizing him, and began to see that Bill was not a perfect male, he had flaws of his own; where I had been hopelessly infatuated with him before, that waned after I realized more about him. During the ten days we journeyed South, I leaned many other things about Bill. First was that he is a man of greater drive than I had understood; he pushed South at a pace I simply could not keep up, even though he was wearing Ebony armor, and I simply wore my mage's robes. A couple days after Bill helped a Dunmer woman recover some of her father's effects from a tomb, he finally noticed that I was on the verge of collapse, and slowed down. I also learned that Bill was, at the time, not the most aware of the needs of others.

When Bill was attacked by a Dark Brotherhood Assassin, it showed Ajira just how dangerous Bill was; not because of the assassin himself, though the Dunmer was skilled, but because Bill had survived for six months while the Dark Brotherhood was trying to kill him, something I had not realized before.

The most frightening part of the journey, was when Bill and Ajira found what we later learned was a Sixth House base, all filled with Corprus Creatures and Ash Wights. There is a fear like nothing else, when you see a Dunmer who is whole and intact, _save that the space where his brain should be is empty_, attack you. I have seen and fought more frightening things, but there is something _disturbing_ in that, that even true undead cannot match. The people twisted by Corprus just made it worse, though Bill fought like a demon to make sure none of them even came close to me. It was in that cave that I realized that Bill had started to become somewhat suicidal, and I was fairly sure that if I had not been with him, both to offer healing and to give him someone else to protect, he would have gotten himself killed. It was a frightening realization, and more important than any of the gems or gold that we looted from the place. Speaking of loot, I feel that I should mention two things before I move on; there were strange, red ashen statues within the cave that we would come to recognize later, and that this was my first time experiencing the way that adventurers really acquire wealth. The loot from the Sixth House base was _rich_.

The final leg of the journey before reaching Azura's shrine was somewhat calmer. Bill was mostly quiet, and Ajira put him to work helping with Alchemy during the evenings. I had a few Corprus Weepings, which I had heard had valuable properties, but never had the opportunity to work with before, not to mention all the Daedra leavings. Bill had never been the most talkative man, but he said next to nothing during the rest of our time on Azura's Coast, and it worried me.

Speaking with Azura herself... There is simply no way for someone who has not stood in the presence of one of the great spirits to understand. It is like trying to explain colors to a blind kitten, they may grasp the concept abstractly, but they cannot _truly_ understand. Ajira will say that Azura shared words just for Ajira; she told Ajira that Bill would never see Ajira as a mate, she was too much younger than Bill, but that Bill saw Ajira like a little sister, and would still need someone to look after him if he was to live through the coming times. It came both as confusion, and relief, to know these things, and later Ajira would learn that Azura's words meant more than Ajira had first thought.

The journey to Tel Branora was just as quiet as the days before Azura's Shrine, and Ajira spent much of her time collecting ingredients from every viable plant or creature we passed. Not many really think about it, but Khajiit are carnivores, not omnivores like men and mer. We can eat little bits of fruits and other things, but too much will make us sick; meat and fish will always be the main parts of our diet, along with lots and lots of sugar. Traveling amongst the hostile wildlife of Vvardenfell with a man like Bill means one is never short of meat, something I was very grateful for. We also saw the very strange Dunmer named Jiub again during our journey across the southern coast; he was dragging a dead Cliff Racer along a clifftop by its tail, and screaming at the skies for more 'foul abominations' to come and find death at his blade. We did not speak with him that time, and I am not sure if I could have handled more crazy than I was already dealing with from Bill, so I was glad.

Once we came within sight of Tel Branora's mushroom spire, I attached myself to Bill's sword-arm, and did not let go. I could feel his muscles clench as we passed through just the small part of the city necessary to reach the docks, and every time we saw a slave, I was worried he would snap and start killing people. Fortunately, we didn't see any stupid Dunmer _beating_ slaves, and we managed to reach the ships without bloodshed. Once below decks, I pushed Bill's attention back towards Alchemy, and spent the entire journey up North, especially the part where the ship stopped over in Sadrith Mora, beating more Alchemy lessons into his head. It is a very thick head, and teaching it required much beating.

The part of the journey from Dagon Fel to the island where Azura's Priestess lived was one of the grimmest times of Ajira's life. Bill gradually stopped speaking at all during the trip, and killed what few predators were foolish enough to attack us as brutally as he had the Daedra outside of Sadrith Mora. It was almost comical, the way he butchered the rat that attacked us at one point, but I remembered what had happened to me the _last_ time Bill had become so upset. I tried to speak with him, prodding him a great deal when I pushed him to help me with my Alchemy, but he was more stubborn than I was clever with my tongue. The only happy part of that part of the journey, was that even though Bill forgot to slow his pace to let me keep up, I had become fit enough to keep up with him anyways.

What happened on Azura's island though... Bill was seeking death as he fought those Daedra, of that there can be no question. The Scamps that were there at first were no challenge to speak of for him, and he slaughtered them. The escalating dangers over the ensuing days, however, made me dearly wish that I knew more magic for use in direct combat. On the second day, I spent what felt like forever running away from Ogrim while Bill chopped them to pieces one by one; on the third day I burned through all the magicka I had summoning Scamps to protect me from Hunger until Bill could come and save me.

The night after our third day on the island, I used all of the Comberry I had on hand, and half of the Daedra hearts, to brew up as many Restore Magicka potions as I could. On the fourth day, I used them all to summon and sustain a half-dozen Flame Atronachs to help Bill against so many more. When the Winged Twilight flew in, I had at first thought it had come to aid us, as they are supposed to be servants of Azura, but it was not so. The bitch nearly killed me, running a claw through my gut while my guard was down, but I broke one of her wings with Skull Crusher and ran. She still caught up with me eventually and I realized that while Skull Crusher was easy to use to hurt people, I still needed real skill if I wanted to use it defensively.

Bill saved my life again, though we still lost half of my completed potions before he killed the Twilight.

On the final day of attacks, Ajira was convinced we would die. Golden Saints are amongst the most powerful Daedric creatures, and the pair of Dark Brotherhood Assassins moving alongside them were far from inconsequential in their own right. The only thing I could think of to try to slow them down, was summon a Storm Atronach, which took almost all of my Magicka, and harass the Golden Saints fighting it with Skull Crusher. I was wounded fairly quickly, and thrown out of the fight, so I was able to watch as the Golden Saints hacked my Storm Atronach to pieces, banishing it back to the Daedric realms, then turned to attack Bill.

Ajira has never seen such a fight between swordsmen, before or since. By the time that the Golden Saints, four of them, had turned their attention to Bill, he had killed the two Assassins, with not a scratch on him, and there was a _look_ to his eyes, a dangerous expression like nothing I had ever seen before. He seized the initiative, attacking them before they could begin the assault themselves, and I was unable to follow the battle properly once they were within arm's reach of each other; they were simply too close.

Ajira saw blades flash, slicing in and out of sight around the tangle of bodies, blood flowing, the Golden Saints screamed in anger and pain, Bill just roared. It was impossible to miss when Bill slipped into the blood rage that Redguards are so famous for; one of the Daedra was smashed out of the melee, literally knocked flying by the force of Bill's blow, leaving only three of them to face him, one clearly injured. One of them carried a Daedric sword of some sort in one hand, a steel tower shield in the other, a second carried a glass longsword, and the injured one was carrying some sort of Claymore.

The fighting was still too crowded for me to make out the details, but I could see when Bill forced the second away with a powerful shield smash, then impaled the first right through her shield, steel no match for Daedric Ebony and Bill's berserker strength. The first scored a slash on the back of Bill's calf with her glass sword before he could finish tearing his blade free, but a second shield-smash knocked her away again, and Bill turned his own weapon to parry a charge from the Saint he had knocked away earlier, planting a brutal shoulder in her face as she crashed into him.

Ajira had never seen a Daedra with a broken nose; Ajira thinks it suited the stupid bitch.

The rest of the fight was a whirlwind of blades; Ajira was not very good with swords and did not follow it all very well, but a few seconds later, the Golden Saint with the glass sword was down, and only the injured one was left. She dissipated into a fog of Magicka, as did the others that were still alive, voluntarily ending their summoning rather than facing Bill, only leaving the corpses.

Something about Bill was different when he walked away from that fight. When we had patrolled with the legion out of Gnisis, he had moved like a mother in the clan does when her kittens are old enough to get in trouble, always ready to move in any direction to go keep some foolish kitty from getting in trouble. When we had traveled South from Sadrith Mora, and then west through Sheogorad, he walked either like a tired man, or an angry one, it changed a lot. Now though, as he walked away from the bodies of the Assassins and the Daedra, he walked like a clan champion who has fought the Great Beasts of the deep jungle, perfect balance and subtle threat all rolled into one.

Then Bill came out of the Blood Rage, and started limping; Ajira thinks she laughed, but was not certain, as she was coming off of the adrenaline herself. When Azura granted her star that evening, I was very excited, a little bit because it meant having one up on stupid Galbedir and her haughty ways, but more because it meant that we had walked into legends, and were heroes, because only heroes got Azura's star.

After the fight with the Daedra on Azura's island, the common wild predators were not very scary anymore. When Ajira first came to Morrowind, the slavers who took her talked about the fierce wild beasts to try to scare her. After Azura's island, the first time Ajira ran into a Slaughterfish, she smashed its stupid head in without even thinking about it. Bill had already been beyond the dangers that the Cliff Racers and other beasts presented, but as we traveled southwest away from the island, he seemed _bored_ by them.

When we ran into another Daedric ruin, Ajira thinks that Bill decided to explore it out of curiosity more than anything else; the Orcs there were a little bit dangerous, but Bill made beating them look easy. Ajira even killed one of the Ogrim herself, crawling up on its back then smashing its head in with Skull Crusher while it flailed around trying to throw her off. I was a little bit worried after when Malacath's statue started speaking, but it did not start moving like Azura's did, so that was no worry.

All of this lead to the fight South of Gnaar Mok, which is where William Hawker truly began to make his mark on Morrowind, and I, Ajira Bloodmask, made it with him.

((()))

_Editor's Note: Though the Archivist in charge of this project attempted several times, neither Lady Ajira nor Lord Nerevar would detail just how it was that Lord Nerevar defeated four Golden Saints collectively. With the lack of information on hand, it has been accounted to Lord Nerevar's legendary good luck. Some are suspicious that Lady Ajira's account excluded certain details purely for the purpose of amusing herself and Lord Nerevar, especially given her frequent smiles during the transcription of her account. It is, unfortunately, beyond our station to press her regarding such an issue, so this too shall remain a mystery._

_Entries from Lord Nerevar's Journal proceed once more from this point._

((()))

19 Rain's Hand, 428, 3rd Era.

I found Farvyn Oreyn just after sunset, clad in Dwemer Armor, along with a pair of warriors in Orcish and Dreugh armor standing on the southern end of the island Gnaar Mok was on, surrounded by the corpses of Bull Netch. Ajira chose to hang back while I went to speak with Oreyn; conversation with him proved to be... _enlightening._

"Hail," I called, "I hear you are Farvyn Oreyn, descendent of the legendary Oreyn Bearclaw."

"Indeed," The Dunmer said grandly as he turned to face me, eying me up and down, taking note of my armor, shield and sword, "Just dealing with some pests that have been plaguing the people of Gnaar Mok."

He bore a broad smile, and he held himself in a posture that made him seem larger, I've seen the like amongst Nords many times before; on the whole he affected quite the presence. His armor even gleamed, quite the accomplishment with Dwemer armor, which was thousands of years old.

"I've come a long way to see you," I said, removing my helm so that he could see my face as well; something he saw on it made his smile become slightly fixed, "As you can imagine, a Redguard such as myself has considerable interest in warriors of legend, and I've heard much of your forebear."

"Ah yes," He said, his expression coming to life again, "That most wonderful ancestor of mine, my father's father's father's father, Oreyn Bearclaw! Defeater of the Witch-Serpent Glenhwyfaunva, and the Mer who began my family's tradition of helping the helpless."

"So I've heard," I said my jaw tightening a little as something about him rubbed me the wrong way, "I find myself greatly desiring to test my skills against those of a legend, would you care for a match?"

"Well," Farvyn said easily, beginning to move closer to the two warriors with him, "Are you planning on pillaging any towns, assaulting pilgrims, raiding caravans or the like?"

"No," I said, shaking my head sharply, "Point of fact, I make a habit of cleaning out bandits and smugglers wherever I find them."

"I'm afraid I can't then," Farvyn said, shrugging casually (a mildly impressive feat in Dwemer pauldrons), "I have a policy of only crossing blades with evildoers."

"I see," I said, beginning to scowl as I advanced towards him, "I was afraid that might be the case. Tell me, have you heard of Kharag gro-Khar, Oreyn's companion?"

"Oh," Farvyn said, his smile abruptly turning into an ugly frown, "_Him_. Yes, I've heard or the Orc, what of him?"

"Well," I said, taking another step towards the Dunmer, then eying up the two warriors with him when they put their hands on their weapons, "According to what somebody told me a few days ago, _Oreyn_ didn't do Guar shit, it was Kharag that did _everything_ Oreyn was credited for, the 'legendary hero' was just damn good at stealing the credit."

"Who told you such things?" Farvyn demanded harshly, his expression altogether ugly as he placed his hand on his own weapon.

"Malacath," I said flatly, and the Dunmer lunged at me, drawing his weapon as he moved.

I raised my shield and counter-lunged, smashing it into his leading hand and face before he could get the weapon free of its sheath; he was _slow_. Two sharp rasps warned me that the warriors had drawn their blades, and I stepped back, absorbing the Glass longsword of one on my Ebony shield as I parried the other's Silver blade. Both blades attempted to dump hostile magic into me through proxy contact; I absorbed the magic from the Glass blade, but the magic on the Silver weapon inflicted a supernatural poison on me. Fortunately, like all Redguards, I'm highly resistant to poison, and it was more a painful distraction than anything genuinely debilitating.

"Do you think it's easy carrying on this kind of family name?" Farvyn snarled as he wiped blood from his nose and began shaking out his crushed hand, "Everyone expects a lot, you know. Of course, it does have some benefits, the adoration of the people, an Imperial Stipend, it's kind of nice. Why'd Malacath send you after me?"

"Malacath _claimed_," I ground out, affecting a strain I did not truly feel as I maneuvered a slow fighting retreat against Farvyn's guards, "That your ancestor's legend was a lie, and asked me to find you and put an end to the lie," I grunted as another lance of magic flashed through my shield and partially-numbed the arm holding it, "_I_ wanted to see for myself, and you attacking me seems a pretty damn clear answer."

"Oh," Farvyn said, shrugging casually, as he watched his guards 'push me back,' "More's the pity, you look like you're pretty good with a blade. Guards, _kill him_."

"_Kill me_?" I shouted incredulously as I bashed the one in Dreugh armor aside for a moment, allowing me to more fully deal with a blinding flurry of jabs from the one in Orcish armor, "_Why?_"

"Why?" Farvyn said curiously as he just stood there, watching, "Because you'll ruin my reputation? Because you'll cost me my Imperial Stipend? Because you offend my pride? Take your pick, they're all true."

Something in me snapped, and I decided to stop playing. When the other guard came back in, rather than block his overhead slash, I sidestepped the blow; he wore bracers rather than gauntlets, and I chopped his hand in half. He screamed and stumbled away, no threat until he could remove the shield on his other arm and take his sword up with it.

"Your _pride?_" I shouted, dropping my center of mass and bracing my shield against a charge from the guard in Orcish armor, the crash of impact reverberating between the both of us.

"YOUR _PRIDE?_" I shouted again, deflecting my foe's Glass blade away from my face with my own blade, then seizing it in my teeth, lightning from the blade's enchantment dancing across my teeth and tongue, before slamming my heavy Ebony shield down on his elbow, breaking his sword-arm.

"_**YOUR PRIDE?**__"_ I screamed as I spat out the blade, the electricity from it only energizing me further as my rage grew, "**YOU WOULD KILL JUST FOR YOUR **_**PRIDE?**__"_

I kicked the man in Orcish armor aside; he cried out as he landed on his broken arm, rolling away as he scrabbled at a secondary weapon with his good arm. I ignored him and turned on his master; Farvyn had gone pale with fear, and was stumbling away from me.

"**THIS WHOLE DAMN ISLAND!**" I roared at the terrified Dunmer, "**THE DAMN RACISTS, THE BLOODY TRIBUNAL TEMPLE WITH THEIR SELF-RIGHTEOUS ORDINATORS, AND **_**ESPECIALLY**_** THE **_**DAMN SLAVERS!**_**"**

He turned and ran, tripping and falling in his haste to get away from me.

"I HAVE HAD IT WITH ALL THIS DAMN _PRIDE_," I shouted as I stalked after him, "'We're better than you because we're _Dunmer, _we're better than you because we're _priests_, we're better than you because you're our damn _slaves_."

Something seized my leg, and I turned to see that the guard in Orcish armor had given up on his weapon, and grabbed my leg with his good arm.

"Run m'lord!" He screamed desperately, "I'll hold him as long as I can!"

I tried to kick the man off, but his grip was like Iron; I hacked at his arm, but he twisted it around so that I only struck his shield, and the angle was lousy to bring down any force anyways.

"**I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS ANY LONGER!"** I screamed down at the man, trying to kick him away again, "**I WILL NOT **_**LET**_** THINGS BE THIS WAY!**"

A pained yelp turned our attention back to Farvyn, who was flat on the ground again, though this time I suspected it was because of Ajira, who stood over him with Skull Crusher in her hands.

"Naughty lying elf is trying to kill Ajira's Bill," The Khajiit hissed at Farvyn, "Naughty, _naughty_ lying elf."

"I am going to _**change**_ this place," I snarled, glaring down at Farvyn, "No matter _what_ it takes."

Farvyn tried to speak, but Ajira _heaved_ her hammer downward, crushing Farvyn's skull into a pulp, and splattering blood all over her face. She hissed with grim satisfaction, then turned to face me, her slitted green eyes glowing in the light of Masser and Secunda as blood dripped from her muzzle. I breathed deeply, reigning in my anger, frustration, and rage, _channeling_ it to a purpose, before nodding respectfully to her, and turning my attention down towards the man still attached to my leg.

Shouting harshly, I twisted downward and slammed my Ebony shield down onto his good arm, breaking that one too. He screamed out in pain and finally let go of me; I kicked him over, then yanked his helmet off, and glared down into his eyes.

"You displayed a fierce loyalty," I snarled down at him, "But it was to the wrong kind of man. I am going to _change_ this island, this whole damn _province_, and I am leaving _you _alive, so that you can start spreading the word."

I stood, breathing deeply through my nose as I studied our surroundings, Ajira stalking up to stand at my side. A rumbling sound, half-purr, half-growl, rolled out of her chest, and I could feel it in my bones.

"This is not how I would have had this encounter turn," I declared, looking first to the crippled man at my feet, then over at the other guard, who was holding a wadded bandage to his mutilated right hand with his intact left, "But if this is what it takes to tear down proud men who propagate lies for their own gain, then _so be it_."

I turned and began stalking back towards Gnaar Mok, Ajira at my side.

((()))

AN: And thus a swordsman-adventurer begins to become something more...


End file.
